


For When There's Nothing Left To Do

by aliferously



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety, Burns, Deceit, Losing people, M/M, Manipulation, Multi, Swearing, Thomas Sanders Storytime Big Bang Challenge, Transphobia, WARNINGS:, bit of dysphoria, denial/denying emotions, lots of injuries/some blood, lying, magic au ayy, manipulation/verbal abuse, self-deprecation, “possessed” character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 22:34:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15672645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliferously/pseuds/aliferously
Summary: Roman, Virgil, Logan, and Patton. A knight, a prince, a hermit, and a healer.Roman belonged as a knight. So certain he could feel it in his bones, Roman knew that he would become a knight. Sure, he couldn’t seem to click with the other knights-in-training, and sure, not having connections was a drag, but once Roman became a knight it would all work out, surely.Until, of course, his most prized possession was stolen. And as he literally could not live without it, Roman abandoned all that he knew and embarked on a journey that changed the course of his life forever.Virgil jumped into his life and then left it just as quick, leaving Roman with whiplash and an intense need to see him again. Patton softly aided him, his own pain swimming behind his eyes, before being frightened and disappearing into the woods. Logan caught him just before Roman left, question in his eyes, and Roman could tell that Logan was looking for someone, too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> im a lil late bUT ITS FINISHED

Roman vaguely regretted parts of his actions. Of course, he lived life looking forwards, not backwards, but perhaps he’d been a bit rash. A bit. His place back home, as impersonal, lonely, and pathetic as it was, seemed palace-like now.

And, of course, there was food. And warmth. Warmth was a big part of that. “That” being his desire to go home.

Teeth chattering, Roman wondered if extreme chill caused one’s very thoughts to stutter.

Being cold... well, Roman didn’t  _ do _ “cold”. He never got cold. Usually he retained enough energy to remain under respectable body temperatures. Usually he went to bed in his feather-stuffed comforter, too, but  _ usually _ wasn’t his life anymore, was it?

Roman allowed his eyes to stray to the only being within miles, probably. They shivered, almost imperceptibly, curled into their body and face trained towards the quickly freezing earth.

Roman gazed at the sputtering fire, fingers twitching underneath his cloak.

“You’d think the stars would show up away from the city,” Roman heard himself say. His companion glanced at him in something akin to surprise, perhaps irritation.

“It’s not like we’re in the plains,” his companion said, voice blank. “There’s trees. Surprise, stars can be blocked by foliage.”

Irritated, then. Roman could work with this.

“There are still places where you can see the sky,” Roman countered, tensing his arms and rubbing them against his sides.

“Apparently not enough for your entitled ass,” they muttered, slowly but surely bending into a ball.

“Ex-cuse me for wanting to see the stars,” Roman said, infusing his voice with as much sarcasm as he could muster. “I should’ve known you’d want to be in pitch dark.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” they said sharply, dark eyes glaring at Roman, their pupils flickering in the firelight.

“Twas a dark and stormy night, and the emo prince of Darkness decided to creep out of their cave of the damned,” Roman said in a stage whisper, wiggling his fingers for effect before tucking his hands back against his body.

They flinched a little too violently to be justified, eyes staring daggers into the ground. “When I creep out of the depths of hell, you mean. And, he/him, but I didn’t think you’d be considerate.” 

Roman didn’t mention the way the man’s voice warbled, saying instead, “of course, cave of the damned being the entrance to the depths of hell. And who am I to assign such labels?”

A soft noise came from his figure which Roman decided to interpret as a laugh, or in the least, a soft snort. In the dead of the night, Roman felt as if anything could happen.

“How did you end up here?” Roman asked, voice soft. Before he could respond he continued with, “I think I’m young enough to restart, but I don’t know if I want to. Sometimes I feel forced into... life.”

An audible silence stretched between the two and Roman maintained his gaze, his companion’s figure seeming to fade into the dusty background as the quiet continued.

“I left,” he said, and Roman nearly started at his voice. It was... gentle, and scratchy, full of more emotion than the dry sarcasm from before. “I left because I am tired of being forced into life.”

“You’re more admirable than I,” Roman said, pushing sincerity into his tone, because he knew that more often than not he leaned towards superfluous and gaudy tones, inaccurate to his true feelings. He needed him to, well, to know that he was more than his (amazing) dramatic exterior, than his (beautiful) loud voice, than his (...) irritating personality.

“Doubtful,” he said, voice like a steel trap. Something clogged in Roman’s throat and he found himself unable to respond.

Icy fingers of wind pushed past Roman’s clothes, scratching goosebumps onto his skin and trailing a deep chill against his bones. Roman ignited his inner flame, his personal furnace, and nearly missed the way the man across the (dying, flickering, shrinking) fire shuddered violently.

“We should get some rest,” Roman said pointedly, rising with legs like logs and crusted joints.

He glanced at him without moving his head. “Alright.”

When he didn’t move from their seat, Roman frowned. “Well, are you coming?”

“I don’t have a tent,” he pointed out, jerking his arms to his body and tensing.

“I am aware,” Roman said slowly. “You’re using my tent.”

“Yeah, right,” he said, sarcasm and dry tone returning full force. “Where would you sleep?”

“My tent,” Roman said, amusement shining through.

Willing to bet he had no response forthcoming, Roman started towards his tent, pausing to look over his shoulder. “It’s either my tent or the embers.”

“I could just die,” he said instantly. Roman couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, and he didn’t particularly want to challenge that notion.

“I can’t have your death on my conscious,” Roman said instead. “C’mon.”

When he still hesitated (Roman couldn’t imagine why; he’d shared sleeping quarters with other men multiple times. Not necessarily wonderful times, more like packed together during training, but it was experience nonetheless), Roman held his arms out. “Have I lead you wrong yet?”

“Jury’s still out,” he said, words jumping out of his mouth. Roman shrugged helplessly and he stood, finally, stretching only slightly (the wind chilled anything that it touched).

Smirking to himself, Roman turned on his heel and started towards his tent, trusting he would follow. He’d set up the tent not too far from the fire on purpose, and Roman opened the flap, waving his arm through with a dramatic, “after you.”

He glared at him, understandably so, and ducked under the entrance.

“What should I call you?” Roman said, realizing that while they had traveled all day together, he’d never received his name.

“My name is–” he cut themselves off, then said, “You can call me... Anxiety.”

“Anxiety?” Roman thought out loud. “I’m assuming that is not your name, then?”

“No,” he said, notably lacking regret. “Names hold power.”

A series of images flashed through Roman’s mind’s eye. “Very true.”

His scabbard, holding his run-of-the-mill iron training sword, felt hollow.

After preparing for sleeping, exchanging a few more quips with Anxiety, and settling underneath the cloth, the brunt of the day hit Roman full force.

Oh hell, was he really out in the Perilous Forest? 

Originally he considered the name a joke, because who named, or called, a forest “Perilous?” It didn’t seem serious at all. Of course, he’d never entered the forest before. No matter how funny Roman thought the name was, Perilous Forest was not to be taken lightly. 

Having traveled before in less than desirable conditions, Roman assumed himself up to the task, but the moment he set foot in the Perilous Forest, he just... knew.

It was only describable to those who’d entered before. Simply  _ knowing  _ that the area you walked through was... less than average.  _ Weird _ . “Strange things happen here, unexplainable things” kind-of weird.

That, and he saw a blood-red fox within fifteen minutes. They had blinked at him with amethyst eyes (purple, Jesus Christ, foxes don’t have  _ purple eyes _ ) before disappearing. The brush didn’t move.

And yet, Roman knew –  _ knew _ , this instinctual, explainable force that lead his life, really, this  _ knowing _ – that he must travel through. When he ran into Anxiety within the first two hours, well, he  _ knew _ they must travel together.

Plus Anxiety had a small rock which, when he threw it at a large dyre-raccoon, turned the creature into solid rock. When he saw Roman he threw another rock at him, but when it hit his shoulder (yes, it did hit him – rocks turning animals into solid rock could be distracting) it merely sparkled in gold light and fell into his palm.

They decided to travel together. Strength in numbers, after all.

Anxiety didn’t talk much. Roman didn’t mind. Talking, at that moment, had felt exhausting.

“Words should be spared,” Anxiety had said at one point. Roman let the phrase tumble through his brain, tinkering with meanings and purposes. Anxiety had sounded rehearsed, the phrase repeated.

An old mentor? A sibling? Parents?

Roman forced himself to stop thinking about Anxiety. Anxiety was only a travelling partner, nothing more. Especially since Anxiety obviously wanted nothing to do with Roman. Especially since Roman needed to find–

Anxiety hadn’t deigned to tell him his name. Roman felt that relatively self-explanatory:  _ I don’t trust you _ .  _ We aren’t friends. _

Which he shouldn’t, and they weren’t. Roman, daft, loud, exuberant Roman, should not be trusted. And Anxiety had met him that day, really, Roman couldn’t blame him. 

_ He really needed to stop thinking about Anxiety _ .

Roman turned his mind to duller thoughts, an attempt at sleep. Rest made everything better.

Well, he hoped. And hope continued to remain one of his few solaces.

—

Virgil, used to being cold, felt incredibly, wonderfully warm.

He snuggled deeper into the soft blankets beneath his hands, exhaling softly to feel the warm air flutter against his fingers. His old room retained cold incredibly well, the hard floors and unforgiving walls far from his bed making him feel vulnerable and weak, unable to protect–

But, right now, warmth settled to his bones, relaxing his muscles and making his entire body pliable.  _ Safe _ .

The thought sent warning bells, ringing between his ears, yet he couldn’t find it in himself to jerk to his feet or do anything else drastic and likely unneeded.

Still. His instincts had never failed him before, and safety usually meant something or someone – no, no, no, someone some _ one  _ only  _ one  _ person had made him feel that way – just, awful. Safety gave a false sense of security and Virgil was tired of falling victim to its wiles.

Slowly, slowly, Virgil edged away from the heater to his right. Roman. Roman, the talkative, nice, prince-like (prince- _ like _ ) man who’d decided they were to be traveling partners.

Virgil didn’t mind. He rather... no, he appreciated it. The Perilous Forest (who really named these things?) held many dangers beyond his imagination. Of course, he could always take off his gloves.

Virgil hated taking off his gloves.

When he was a reasonable distance from Roman’s sleeping figure, he sat up, and was struck with a mortifying realization.

The tent, despite his former thoughts, claimed quite a bit of space. Roman and Virgil had plenty of room for both of them to sleep comfortably and distanced from one another, as strangers should. Despite, well, despite the extra room, Virgil had gradually shifted closer to Roman – to Roman’s heat, of course.

Virgil paused. Why was Roman so warm? Virgil wasn’t commonly around other people, not enough to know the average heat one should exude, but Roman almost certainly ran higher than “most people”.

Virgil pushed down his personal space warning bells and hesitantly reached forward, brushing the backs of his fingers against Roman’s cheek and drawing away almost immediately. Eyes blown wide, Virgil glanced between his fingers and Roman’s cheek. Yes, Roman was most definitely burning up.

Did that mean Roman was  _ sick? _ Did Virgil have to take care of him? Virgil had no idea how to care for a sick person, especially in the middle of the Perilous Forest, of all places. A small seed of resentment planted in Virgil’s head. Really, could Roman have picked a worse time to come down with some virus?

“Ah...” Roman let out a small noise, blinking his eyes open and staring at Virgil’s wide-eyed expression. “...uh.”

“You’re awake,” Virgil said dumbly, flexing his fingers subconsciously. Realizing that he was on his knees, kneeling towards Roman, he jumped back.

“I am,” Roman said, a smidgen of uncertainty edging its way into his voice.

_ How? He was on fire a moment ago... _

“How are you  _ alive? _ ” Virgil demanded in his tactful way. “Your face is at melting temperature.”

“Melting temp–” Roman blanched and reached up to touch his face absentmindedly. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Don’t get sick in the middle of a forest,” Virgil snapped, knowing his irritation was irrational and he was likely ruining all future positive interactions with him. Yet he couldn’t stop the words from running out of his mouth. Roman couldn’t  _ die  _ on his hands! He could tell Roman was a good person, someone who might make a difference in the world, as opposed to him, who would probably die and sink into the dirt before he turned thirty, if he was being optimistic.

“I’m not sick,” Roman said, his sigh interlaced with relief, exasperation, and something else Virgil couldn’t identify (he prided himself on being able to read expressions and moods, came in handy when figuring out if one despised him or was simply putting on a front).

“There’s no other explanation,” Virgil said shortly, crossing his arms.

Roman stared at his hands wordlessly, moving his fingers as if trying for the first time. “I run hot.”

“That wasn’t just hot, don’t give me that shit,” Virgil said, words sharpened into points.

“Alright,” Roman said slowly. Holding his fist in front of him he said a simple, “don’t freak out,” (at which his anxiety instantly spiked, because one does not start anything ever with that phrase) before his fist  _ lit on fire _ .

After an admittedly embarrassing squeak left his mouth and his body went into half-fetal-position-we’re-in-danger mode, Virgil realized the flame was glowing a soft orange as opposed to the changing reds and oranges of a campfire. “Oh what the hell.”

“Yeah,” Roman said eloquently, relaxing his hands and letting the orange flames dance around his fingers. “Orange is only one setting, but that’s why I’m so hot when sleeping. Of course, I’m hot all the time,” he said, voice cheeky enough that Virgil could tell Roman was no longer talking about temperature.

“One setting?” Virgil said. “How much... magic do you have?”

“More than the average person,” Roman deflected, extinguishing the flame swiftly. “But, I told you. Don’t go... yelling it to the winds, or anything.”

“You assume I care that much,” Virgil said, barely meaning the words. Perhaps he cared a little too much – after all, he related on a scarily similar level. Having high levels of magic in this world... that could be dangerous.

“You have more magic than normal,” Roman pointed out, harshly reminding Virgil how alarmingly perceptive he could be.

“You’re not wrong,” Virgil evaded, looking at the exit to the tent. “We should get ready. We’re losing daylight.”

“Okay,” Roman said easily. He pushed the blankets off his body and started preparing for the day, Virgil gradually following his movements. Virgil still wasn’t entirely sure how to... survive on his own. Used to being catered to, Virgil carefully copied Roman’s movements and noting them for when they split and he was... alone again.

“If we keep going east we’ll hit the edge of the forest by tomorrow, most likely,” Roman said.

Virgil made an affirming hum, fiddling with his pack and double checking if he had everything.

“But if we stop a little earlier tonight, I can reserve some energy for the fire and keep us a bit warmer than last night,” Roman said.

Virgil blinked at the casual reference to his magic. Normally people muted their magic, used it for small tasks, didn’t mention it in daily life. “Okay.” Roman had no such qualms, and it was... refreshing, in a way.

When they started out, little was spoken between the two. Virgil despised talking while walking, and no late night heart-to-heart would change that. Roman made a few benign comments and small talk throughout the day.

At around noon, the hair on the back of Virgil’s neck stood up. The wind picked up, only slightly, but noticeable enough that Virgil felt instantly on edge.

“You alright?” Roman asked, chewing on some dried meat from his pack. Virgil noted how at ease Roman appeared, how obviously Roman could not tell something was off.

“Yeah,” Virgil had said, lying through his teeth. Roman nodded without a second thought, and they continued, Virgil keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.

Clouds covered the sky, and they trekked onward.

—

Roman sprinted, slipping and sliding on the leaf-covered ground.  _ Shit, Anxiety, where – _ a tree seemed to materialize out of nowhere and he darted to the left to avoid it, tripping over his feet and slamming into the ground. He instantly jumped to his feet, the smallest sting pricking at his arm.

Tears burned in his eyes and Roman forced himself to keep going, keep running, keep –

The ground disappeared from underneath his feet and he screamed, tucking his arms against his head and seeing harsh, jagged rock, the bright stars, and rain-slick cliffs before crashing into the ground. He felt his body snapping, shock injecting into his system, and the world flashing bright white before cutting to black.

—

Virgil glanced at Roman, the sky darkening far quicker than it logically should. He could taste rain in the air, but Roman seemed to have no indication of stopping. When the first drop fell, Virgil paused mid-step, but Roman continued.

“Are we walking in the rain?” Virgil finally asked, trying to keep the exasperation from his voice (and likely failing).

“Of– oh,” Roman stopped then as if seeing Virgil for the first time. “Oh, yeah, we probably should, shouldn’t we?”

“Uh...” Virgil squinted at him in a half-hearted attempt to interpret his actions.

“In training,” Roman clarified. “We rarely stopped for anything. Sometimes I forget I’m not... there anymore.”

“Training for what?” Virgil asked.

“To be a knight,” Roman said, the phrase a strange mixture of dejected and pompous, as if he was so used to saying it with extreme dramatics and pride that he didn’t know how to say it naturally.

“Noble,” Virgil said, not knowing what else to say.

“I guess.” Roman pursed his lips. “Seems like it should be.”

Virgil would say how being a knight was supposedly the epitome of being noble, but he knew personally how un-noble the knights – real, full-fledged knights – could occasionally be.

Roman, Virgil decided, would be one of the best knights he’d ever met.

“You’ll continue your training when you return, then?” Virgil said carefully.

“No. Maybe. I don’t know,” Roman said, rubbing at his face in frustration. “I don’t think I’m cut out for it.”

“Shut up,” Virgil said. “You’d be a fine knight. I would know.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Roman said. He paused, then added, “How?”

A flash of fear jolted through Virgil’s body. “How what?”

“How would you know I’d make a good knight?” Roman clarified, despite Virgil knowing exactly what he was asking.

“I just do,” Virgil said vaguely.

“Mmkay,” Roman said, blatantly not believing him. “Tell me whenever, or never. I don’t mind.”

Virgil’s memory flashed to the night before, to Roman holding his fist in front of him and lighting it on fire, to  _ “But, I told you. Don’t go yelling it to the winds, or anything.” _

“I’m the prince,” Virgil blurted, slapping a hand over his mouth a split second later.

Roman stilled. “What?”

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter,” Virgil said, rushing through his sentences and stumbling over words. “Let’s just keep going or set up camp or something.”

“No, you just said–” Roman stopped in front of him and caught his forearms with his hands. “Anxiety–”

“That’s not even my  _ name,  _ you don’t know me,” Virgil spat, wrenching his arms away from Roman, away from the  _ knight-in-training, _ away from the fire-wielding  _ stranger _ he just spilled a close-kept secret with, someone who would send him back to the palace back to his old life back to being constrained by everyone and everything –

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Roman said softly, soothingly, holding his palms forwards and backing away, giving Virgil space to breathe. “I’m not going to tell anyone, I promise. I just... need confirmation. The prince?”

Virgil nodded, unable to speak for the moment. He took a deep breath and rubbed his hands against his upper arms, feeling the soft fabric of his gloves rub against his skin comfortingly.

“Alright. Okay. Wow. I, uh... Wow, I don’t really...” Roman stuttered more than said. “Should I... bow? Or kneel? Oh man, I slept right next to you, that’s probably breaking all sorts of laws–”

“Stop, oh god,” Virgil waved his hands in front of his face. “I ran away for a reason. Please do none of that.”

“Call you your highness–” Roman continued, a teasing edge to his voice.

“I swear I’ll arrest you if you do,” Virgil said gravely.

Blatantly ignoring the dark tone in Virgil’s voice, Roman laughed. “Alright, dark and stormy, whatever you say.”

A crack tore across the sky and the light sprinkles transformed to a downpour within seconds. Virgil found refuge under a tree without checking for Roman, who ended up following him anyway.

“Damn,” Roman said. He flicked some wet hair out of his face and peered through the drops. “That was fast.”

“Really,” Virgil said, hugging his arms to his body. “When I ran I didn’t realize how cold I’d be all the time.”

“Ah.” Roman’s figure lit up in soft orange light, small flames flickering above his skin. Virgil instinctively leaned closer to him, closer to the warmth suddenly radiating from Roman.

“The fire won’t burn you,” Roman promised, his arm hovering uncertainly above Virgil’s shoulders. “Orange never gets hot enough to wound.”

“How many colors do you have?” Virgil asked. Eyeing Roman’s arm and falling on his common philosophy of  _ fuck it _ he leaned into Roman’s side, the man’s arm falling naturally onto Virgil’s shoulder and enveloping him in warmth.

“Orange is warmth, Yellow is mostly pure light,” Roman said, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb on Virgil’s shoulder. “Uh, green helps ward away sickness, I think. Light green, I mean. Dark green gives me more protection. Dark blue helps plants, which was weird to find out. I don’t have all the colors, yet, like red, purple, pink, other things.”

“Can you make normal fire?”

“Yeah, of course.” Roman flicked out the thumb not against Virgil’s shoulder and lit the tip of it, reddish-yellow flames flickering on the tip.

“That looks pretty red,” Virgil said.

“I mean, yeah, but I don’t think it’s my  _ red _ fire.” Roman doused the flame and tucked his hand against his chest, the orange glow turning a little brighter. “The colors show up as time goes on. My first color was dark green.”

“Dark green,” Virgil repeated. “For protection?”

Roman’s form stiffened, telling Virgil more than his words ever would. “I guess. Didn’t have much – I mean, it was a totally random color, y’know? Never figured out why, I mean...”

“When I was younger,” Virgil said without thinking. A small part of him screamed at him to  _ shut up shut up shut UP _ but another part couldn’t handle the orange flame starting to dull, and not because it would mean less warmth. “Objects started responding to me in ways that didn’t make sense.”

Roman’s arms squeezed his shoulders, prompting him to continue.

“It was little things at first. A snake toy would start moving, or a marble would always go to the right spot, or my blanket would always reappear near me. My parents thought it was little magic I’d find, there’s lots of magic pockets at the palace,” Virgil said quietly, swallowing down apprehension at sharing his life. A lightning bolt crashed across the sky, igniting it and splitting it in two for half of a second.

“I, uh, it ended up just being me,” Virgil said. He put his hands in front of him. “That’s why I wear gloves. Then I don’t affect things.”

“Those rocks you were throwing?” Roman said, realization dawning in his voice. “You touched them and they turned the animal into rock. But they didn’t do anything to me.”

Virgil shrugged. “It’s a fickle magic.”

“I think it’s fate,” Roman said.

Virgil stared at him with a deadpan expression, rolling his eyes when he saw the teasing grin Roman wore. “Of course.”

“How else would a dashing knight-in-training meet the brooding, rugged prince?” Roman said, dramatics oozing from his pores. “It’s a fairy-tale waiting to happen.”

“Make the knight in training female and the prince ridiculously handsome and you have the plots of at least a dozen books I can think of off the top of my head,” Virgil said.

Roman looked like he was fighting to say something, shoulders twitching, when he blurted out, “One of those is already true.”

Virgil backtracked, rerunning over his statement. “Oh, shit, are you a woman? Have I been misgendering you this whole time? Shit, Roman, I’m sorry–”

“No!” Roman said loudly. “I’m not a woman.”

“Oh,” Virgil said, sighing in relief. Realization hit him like a brick. “ _ Oh _ .”

Roman thought he was handsome?  _ Roman? _ If he were to quote himself, then “ridiculously handsome”, oh,  _ oh. _

Heat traveled to his face and Virgil said a quiet, “oh” that came out as more of a squeak than anything else.

(How could  _ Roman _ believe that  _ Virgil  _ was handsome? Roman, with his beautiful face, Roman, with his strong stance,  _ Roman _ , thought  _ Virgil– _ )

A loud growl interrupted their mutually rapid thoughts and they stiffened simultaneously. The rain seemed to slow, the number of drops just as numerous yet falling at a slower rate.

“Oh no,” Virgil said softly. He  _ knew _ that growl. He knew exactly what that growl meant.

“What? What is it?” Roman asked him, just as softly and staring into the slow drops of rain, trying to see.

“On the count of three, run,” Virgil muttered, slowly edging his way backwards.

“What? Anxiety, you’re not making any–”

“One.”

“I can’t just run away, that’s–”

“Two.”

“Anxiety–”

“Three!” Virgil grabbed Roman’s wrist and  _ sprinted _ in the opposite direction of the growl, running, running, running because there was nothing else one could do when–

The wyrm howled and crashed through the trees, unholy screeches and the cracking of trunks filling Virgil’s every sense, his rain-slicked palm sliding against Roman’s wrist until suddenly he couldn’t feel it anymore, and Roman was gone, he wasn’t behind him anymore, and–

“ROMAN!” Virgil screamed, throat raw and panting and  _ scared _ . “NO! ROMAN!”

The wyrm rapidly approached him and Virgil hoped, hoped to any god or being above that Roman’s remains weren’t mangled in the wyrm’s stomach. If the wyrm focused on Virgil, then it couldn’t focus on Roman, and Virgil felt his glove fall off and his fingers wrap around a stone before he could think.

Virgil threw the rock behind him and heard an explosion shake the trees followed by an ear-splitting screech.

He didn’t look, he didn’t stop, because he knew the moment hesitation snuck in he would be a goner. Rain pelted his face and arms, branches cutting streaks into his skin and leaves blocking his vision. The dull roar of the storm and the pitched shrieks of the wyrm pounded against his ears and Virgil sobbed, tripping on roots and twisting his ankle, he was sure, but he couldn’t stop –

Or, he could. Death by a wyrm sounded brutal but truthfully, in the grand scheme of ways to die, there were worse. Well, a wyrm sounded like a noble death regardless, right? Wyrms were large terrifying creatures, nobody would question if Virgil was too slow or too clumsy to outrun one.

He could die here.

Wasn’t that what he wanted?

An echo of the cacophonous sound rang through his head and the world was quiet for one clear moment. Limbs moving in slow motion, the rain glinting off of light, trees deep brown and green, long, ridged scales swirling with a gaping maw lined with teeth...

Virgil read the anger in its eyes, the almost defensive stance of its head, the blades of shining, clean silver, sharpened...

A clean, clear voice cut through the chaos.

“ _ Stop!” _

Virgil saw pale, weathered wood as the world rushed back into focus. Run, run, run, don’t get eaten–

A lone figure stood in front of a door and  _ wow, that sucks _ was all Virgil could think before he ran headfirst into the wall, the world flashing to black. 


	2. Chapter 2

Standing before the pulpit, forcing a smile onto his face, feeling the short line of wounded behind him, Patton prayed. Not for religion or sacrament. In fact, Patton was praying to himself.

_ There’s only three today. You can feel their pain. You can handle three more, you’re doing just fine today, and they need your help, they have nowhere else to turn _ .

A full minute passed and Patton itched to get it over with get it  _ over with _ even though he should be grateful, after all, he received visitors!

Sure, they were only here because they needed his magic, but, visitors!

“Welcome!” Patton said, turning around and clasping his hands together. Eight people were before him, three of them carrying ailments. Two flinched at his greeting and turned their heads while five gave him uneasy smiles.

The other one stepped forward. “My sister, she’s sick, we’re afraid for her health. Please help us, sir.”

“Oh, none of that, call me Patton!” he said cheerfully. That knot of despair and sadness pulsed in his chest, but he pushed it down. He took three steps down to their level and approached the girl, who shivered under her hand-knit blanket.

“Hello,” Patton murmured, nearing her and gently reaching out to brush his fingers on her cheek. A few of the others stumbled away from him, nothing out of the ordinary. “What’s your name?”

“Dessa,” she said, sniffling and staring at him with big brown eyes. Her corkscrew hair seemed to be wilting under the strain of sickness. “They say you’re like a god.”

“I’m not,” Patton said softly. It hadn’t been the first time he’d heard that;  _ Patton, the god of the town. He could heal any wound, any disease, but never at night. No, night is when he turned to the malevolent side, after all, gods are both good and evil – _

Patton smiled at her and moved his hands to her shoulders. Closing his eyes, he lightly prodded for her sickness, seeking it out and covering it with his magic. Like tendrils of ivy he pulled at it, the negative seed of disease, gently untangling its clutches on her. The sickness fell from her body like water off rocks, and Patton allowed it to disperse into the air. Parts of the negative energy, her despondence at being sick, seeped into Patton.

He covered the negative energy with his magic and forced it to the back with all the rest.

Eyes a bright golden color, glinting in the light of Patton’s magic, she gazed at him in wonder as the magic worked through her body. A soft smile settled on Patton’s lips and he patted her shoulder. “There ya go, kiddo! Good as new.”

Her lips parted, her face pure wonder, and she breathed a soft, “thank you. I’ll never forget you.”

Patton simply laughed, standing.  _ You will. You will. _

“D-Dessa, time to go home,” the man standing next to her said. Her brother? Father? Uncle?

She gave him one last look before disappearing out of the doors of the church. They closed with a foreboding  _ clang _ , and Patton turned, unconcerned, to the next person.

“I’ve been having, these, attacks, on my brain,” the teenager stuttered, hands fluttering around their neck. “Like wasps. Clawing at my thoughts–”

“Oh, kiddo,” Patton said, nearing them. “May I hug you?” He held his arms out.

They tightened their grip on their arms and squeezed their eyes shut, shaking their head violently.

“Alright,” Patton said, voice soft. Slowly, with audible footsteps, Patton approached them. “My magic requires physical contact. Would you like to hold my hand, or would you like me to touch your shoulder?”

They lifted their head just enough to squint, and they shuddered, a flinch travelling through their body. A good ten seconds passed with no reaction, but Patton made no motion.

The ten seconds stretched into thirty, and an annoyed “tch” sounded behind them. The teenager instantly stiffened and Patton tilted his head, eyes landing on the noise-maker. Patton smiled at them, eyes hardened, and they blanched.

“Wherever you’re the most comfortable,” Patton murmured. “I’m sorry my magic requires contact. Whenever you’re ready.”

Patton considered it a small miracle when the teenager shakily held their left hand out, his smile was so wide. Lightly, with exaggerated movements, Patton lightly held the tips of their fingers with his own, focusing on his magic once more.

A brier of anxiety had bred in the teenager’s mind, their motor functions and verbal cues overtaken by the illness.

Patton grabbed the anxiety with his magic, surrounding it and squeezing as hard as he could, the tendrils seeping into his magic and trailing back to him. He dispersed what he could, the briers shrinking to the size of a seed.

A shudder ran up Patton’s arms and  _ oh no oh no they’ll find out they’ll learn that you’re awful and dangerous and – _

Patton took deep breaths, covering the leftover anxiety and shoving it to the back.

“You should have better control of it, now,” Patton said. “I can’t destroy it completely, but I can help you control it.”

The teenager looked at him, tears in their eyes and hand over their mouth. Small hiccups shuddered through their body. “Thank you. Thank you. I’ll never forget you, thank you so much.”

_ You’ll forget. Please, don’t make promises you can’t keep _ . Patton smiled at them and squeezed their hand lightly before releasing it, leaning away from their personal space. “It’s my pleasure.”

“I won’t,” they insisted, fingers twitching as they reached out and drew back from him, as if they wanted to console him but despised physical contact and knew no other way. “You’re the kindest being in my life.”

“Aw shucks! You’re gonna make me blush,” Patton said, gesturing and grinning. “And, it’s my job! I love ya, kiddo. I can’t just leave those I love in pain!”

The teenager sniffed, their eyes becoming watery. “They were wrong."

They turned and stalked out the door, leaving Patton to wonder what they meant.  _ Wrong? About what? Who? _

“Alright! Who needs some help over here?” Patton said to the small crowd of five. They exchanged glances and an old woman hobbled from behind.

“My legs give me trouble,” she said in a croaky voice, leaning on a handmade cane.

“Make her walk like she’s young again,” one of the others said.

She whacked them with her cane. “Be polite, for god’s sake. Do you insult your gift-giver or thank them?”

They grumbled and kept quiet, while Patton wrung his hands uncertainly.

“Ma’am, I’m not sure how much I can help you,” he said, crestfallen. “Age is different for me. I heal ailments and diseases, but not time.”

“I understand,” she said. “I may still need my cane, but perhaps I won’t be in pain.”

“Alright!” Patton touched her on the shoulder and removed as much pain and wounds as he could, enveloping the pain with his magic and pushing it to the back.

She sighed, then, and a soft smile settled. “Thank you, dear boy. This town doesn’t know what it has.”

_ Does it? Does it not know? _ “Well, I’m here to help!”

Her eyes searched his for long seconds and Patton stood there, smiling and chanting  _ you don’t know you don’t know you have no idea _ until she and her entourage left out the large, smooth, loud church doors.

Patton’s smile dropped and he worked his jaw with his hand, massaging it out and letting his face settle into his neutral, still-happy-looking natural alignment.

_ they know they know they they they they they – _

“It’s only noon,” Patton said to the empty, cavernous, church. “You’ll have to wait for nighttime.”

_ they’ll forget they’ll forget you you you you once you once show them your real self dangerous you’re dangerous and you they know _

“Yeah, I know,” Patton said, void of irritation or frustration. “Remember, you get night time.”

_ no _

_ “Yup!”  _ Patton said, his voice warping for a split second. He shook himself, unnerved, and walked to a back room. The size of the pulpit, the main church room, made him feel small and insignificant. And Patton knew that every being was important, every being had a purpose!

His was just... to heal others. To be the therapist, the doctor, the

_ demon _

Patton pursed his lips. He would kill for a moodstone to rid himself of the excess feelings from healing. Well, not kill. Patton didn’t desire to kill anyone.

Yeah, that thought didn’t dampen his need for a moodstone.

Just one. One would help him release some of the feeling. Just a bit.

Patton slowly opened the door and sat down, picking up some knitting. Had to keep himself busy, after all. In a few hours, he’d eat dinner and see if anyone else came for help. After that, he went through his evening routine, watering some plants, cleaning, anything else Patton could busy himself with until dark.

Once it was dark, well... Patton seldom remembered what happened after that.

—

Honestly, Roman should have expected this. What was he thinking, travelling all on his own? They always told him to ‘travel in packs’ and ‘strength in numbers’ and ‘power of three’ (if one got hurt, another would run for help while the third stayed with the wounded). In hindsight (always 20/20, dammit), he should have seen this coming. He was  _ alone– _

But, really, he hadn’t been alone, had he? His travelling partner, impromptu travelling partner, Anxiety, walked with him, talked with him,  _ ran for his life with him– _

Until they weren’t together, not anymore. Roman remembered feeling his wrist slip from Anxiety’s grip, remembered the raw yell  _ wrench _ itself from his throat, remembered the cracked voice screaming, “Roman! ROMAN!”

Echoes of the night before rang in his ears as his body recorded damage, sending information to his brain in the form of  _ thrumming, sore, unending pain _ .

Opening his eyes and wincing at the glare from the sun, Roman glanced around to find his bearings. Okay. One step at a time, right? Training, training, one step at a time.

He was in a ravine. Cliffs rose around him, but it wasn’t too deep, and Roman could see the possibility of a trail out. Okay. He knew where he was.

(Never, he never knew where he was, what the  _ hell  _ was he doing out here–)

Next step. Assess for damage. Okay. His leg hurt like hellfire, and his arms – no, his left arm, he couldn’t  _ move  _ it. His right arm seemed alright, if bloody, raw, torn excuses of skin on bones counted as alright.

Roman looked at his left arm. He didn’t think it was supposed to bend that way, and when he tentatively poked at it with his right hand he hissed at the shock of pain. Ah, shit.

His leg, then – he should try, to find, try –

His leg wasn’t broken. Neither were his ribs, or fingers, or skull. In fact... Roman knew what a concussion felt like, and he didn’t believe – what luck, really, no concussion.

(Luck)

His leg wasn’t broken. But there was a long cut running down the edge of it, gouging muscle and tissue from his thigh.

The sun glared down at him. Power of three. Strength in numbers. Running.

Ah, maybe he did have a concussion? After all, Roman wasn’t a doctor, he couldn’t know –

How was he going to move? Get out, to get out of the ravine he was going to need to move, and while he could maybe limp out his arm was in so much pain he wasn’t sure how he would leave he was probably going to be stuck here forever until he died of dehydration and all the trainees back home would find his body and laugh and laugh and laugh –

One step at a time. He was in a ravine. His arm was broken. His leg felt like fire and the sun was not helping –  _ oh. _ Fire. Okay.

Dark green for protection.  _ “Dark green,” Anxiety said. “For protection?” _

_ Yes, yes, _ Roman thought, mind swirling. He concentrated on his store of magic, on his skin, on  _ protect me please I’m in so much pain – _

Hot pink fire exploded from his chest and spread over his body like ignited paper. The flames blocked his vision, blocked his hearing, blocked his senses and instead of feeling numb and trapped he felt... calm.

Pleasant warmth tingled over his wounds and Roman took a deep breath, his first deep breath since he’d woken, the air smooth in his throat instead of scratching and raw. The fire started tapering off, slowly sliding off his skin, flakes of pale pink ash surrounding his figure.

Roman blinked at it. Usually his flames left no residue. Then he looked at his body, and  _ oh _ .

The wound on his leg was completely cauterized, alone with the scratches and scrapes on his arms, chest, back... everywhere else. His arm – his arm was set, and although he would need to put it into a sling soon, a numbed sensation covered the pain. He would be able to walk. He could  _ leave. _

Hot pink fire. Protection, sure, not quite healing, either. Roman thought back to his emotions during the moment; the  _ need _ , the instinct, the  _ knowing _ , for survival.

Perhaps... perhaps his pink fire, the hot pink fire, showed when he needed survival the most. Needed help the most. But, of course, survival had a much nicer ring to it.

_ “Dark green, for protection?” _

Worry shot through his body like an arrow. Anxiety was still out there. Roman should get to a town, sling his arm, find his bearings, and find Anxiety. The  _ prince _ .

Prince Anxiety? No...

Roman furrowed his eyebrows. What kingdoms were nearby? Was Anxiety  _ his _ prince, or the prince of a nearby kingdom? No, the prince at his kingdom was only ten. Roman groaned out loud; he didn’t know the other prince’s names.

Fine. That was fine. He’d learn once he found Anxiety again. Roman forced himself to his feet, swaying a bit, and started for the trail.

Body both hot and cold, a strange numb flowing in his veins, Roman staggered down the path, sun shining down on him. Was this the effects of hot pink fire? His mind felt fuzzy, thoughts running together and stumbling, as if surrounded by foam and static.

He noticed his limp a mile in.

His arm started burning at mile two.

Thirst suddenly attacked his throat and Roman kept placing one foot in front of the other, one step, then the next, because he knew if he stopped he wouldn’t be starting again. His eyes burned and he couldn’t cry to relieve the sting, his skin dry and chapped.

_ If Anxiety saw me now _ , he thought ruefully, walking heavily, wondering when he would see a building.  _ If Anxiety saw me now, he’d laugh. “Pathetic,” he’d say, “You can’t last a day on your own? What kind of knight are you?” _

Roman almost tripped, then thanked the gods he hadn’t. Hitting the ground... well, Roman didn’t know if he’d get up.

_ Why are you here? _

_ You know why. You know why you left. You know why you’re travelling solo. _

Roman gritted his teeth and took one more step before freezing in place. A town. He saw a  _ town! _

Determination igniting under his feet, Roman staggered his way to the town, holding his broken arm and leaning on his good leg. Mouth open and panting, head spinning, feet burning, Roman knew that he looked anything but a hero.

_ You’re not a hero. You’re just trying to find the most important item in your life. _

Roman collapsed onto a cobblestone road.  _ Get it together. Get up. GET UP! _

“Oh my god!” a voice yelped, and Roman heard the pattering of shoes on stone. “Oh my god! Someone, get the healer! Quickly!”

Roman groaned and lifted his head, peering at a concerned face hovering above him. They hesitantly touched his shoulder, their face shifting.

Vision swimming, Roman heard a vague, “don’t worry, we can help you.”

The next so many minutes blurred together, snapshots of voices and scenes. Roman swore he felt his bones working back together, his cuts smoothing over – the pain pulsing through his body slowed and Roman became painfully aware of his thirst.

At some point he’d been moved from the middle of the street to the steps of... a church, perhaps. A wooden cup full of liquid settled in his hands and he drank greedily, not questioning the contents.

As he became more aware of his surroundings, he noticed the soft hand on his shoulder. He turned, blinking at the kind face of a man with a light blue shirt and fabric tied around his shoulders.

“Hey kiddo,” he said cheerfully. “I’m glad you’re feeling better! Man, you gave everyone quite the scare, stumbling in all bloody like that!”

Roman opened his mouth, then reassessed his situation and closed it again. At the man’s sparkling gaze he said, “thanks.”

“Oh, it’s no problem!” he replied, beaming. Roman winced slightly. Something about the smile was... off, in a way, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. “I’m always prepared to help!”

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Roman said slowly, nursing whatever water was left in his cup.

“I’m Patton! I’m the village healer. Or, town healer, I suppose, but village healer sounds much more fun, dontcha think?” Patton said.

“How did you heal me so quickly?” Roman answered instead.

“I have magic,” Patton said simply, wiggling his fingers. “It’s a little stronger than average, which helps me heal big wounds like yours!”

“Oh,” Roman said. He stared at his hands, flexing his fingers slowly.

“I’m glad you came, though, this place was getting a little dry,” Patton said, laughing. Roman smiled weakly, inwardly frowning. Something was...  _ off _ , in a way, something Roman couldn’t pinpoint, something about Patton’s general ambiance.

“I’ve never met such a powerful healer before,” Roman said in the growing silence.

“Me neither! Well, I’ve never left this town, so there’s not much chance for me to have met one, but you look like a traveler, so if you say I’m rare, then I suppose I’m rare!” Patton said in one breath. Roman admitted he was impressed.

“Usually a healer utilizes the body’s immune system to quicken the process of healing, but this brings in the danger of healing wrong with bones,” Roman mused out loud. “And infection. How did you overcome these?”

“I don’t have to worry about that!” Patton said, a bit of confusion creeping into his tone. “I just take the pain away and heal the wounds.”

Patton sounded serious for the last phrase and Roman sat stick straight, Patton’s voice reverberating throughout his body. Suddenly, it clicked. Roman knew what was off with Patton.

He wasn’t  _ genuine _ . And Roman understood putting on a front all too well.

“Take the pain away...?” Roman repeated. “Where does it go?”

Patton opened his mouth, eyes and lips smiling, but stopped as if someone had pressed the pause button on his life.

Roman narrowed his eyes, analyzing Patton’s body language.

Patton restarted again and said, “Everywhere and nowhere! It just disperses into the air.” Waving his hands for extra effect, Patton seemed to be looking intentionally  _ not _ at Roman. 

Roman didn’t study to become a knight for nothing, however.

“That sounds like the power of a moodstone,” Roman said offhandedly, noting Patton’s flinch at the word, “plus the ability of healing. You’re either lying, or the most powerful wizard in the lands.”

Of all the ways Roman had expected Patton to respond, bursting into tears was not one of them. Instantly Roman shook off his pretentious student persona. Compassion and regret swirled through his veins. “Shoot, Patton, I’m so sorry.”

“I... I...” Patton babbled, hands rubbing at his arms, shoulders, his eyes and cheeks.

“Can I touch you?” Roman questioned, hand hovering over Patton’s shoulder. At Patton’s frantic nod Roman placed a hand on his shoulder. When Patton leaned into the touch Roman put his arm around Patton’s upper back, leaning close and giving him an awkward sideways hug.

“I don’t  _ lie _ ,” Patton said, staring intently at Roman through watery eyes. “Lying is bad!”

Uncertainty twinged in Roman’s chest but he ignored it. “I’m sorry, shh, shh, we’re okay...”

“Yeah, I just...” Patton sniffled and leaned into Roman’s chest. “People don’t listen to me all that much.”

Roman held Patton tighter at that, frowning into his hair. How could people not talk to Patton? A bundle of brilliant energy, Patton seemed to exude fluff and sunshine. Not talking to such a beautiful individual seemed... cruel.

“I’m sorry,” Roman murmured. “I really am. Everyone needs someone.”

“Who’s your someone?” Patton asked quietly, clutching at Roman’s sleeves.

Roman didn’t say anything.  _ Everyone needs someone, huh Roman? Huh? How hypocritical, you runaway, you traitor of the crown. _

“Roman?” Patton said, voice verging on desperate.

_ Anxiety would kill you, _ Roman’s inner voice warned.

_ What Anxiety doesn’t know won’t kill him,  _ he argued back.

“A prince,” Roman said softly, hugging Patton as close as he could on the uncomfortable steps. “I traveled with him through the forest.”

“A prince...” Patton repeated, sounding faraway and fanciful. “You’re incredible. You’re the most incredible person I know and I don’t even know your name.”

A thorn stabbed straight into Roman’s heart. “Roman.”

“Even your name sounds regal,” Patton sniffled, sounding as if he were about to start sobbing. “You’re like an angel.”

“I’m no angel,” Roman said quickly. “I’m just a man.”

“Just a man with a prince,” Patton said. Roman startled, and Patton continued. “Tell me about him.”

“He’s, well...” Roman thought carefully. “He’s passionate, and clever, he can make any phrase sound sarcastic. He cares more than he likes to show...” Roman’s mind flashed back to when he woke to Anxiety’s frantic expression,  _ “How are you alive?”,  _ a pang clutching at his chest. “And he’s loyal.”

_ “Roman! ROMAN!” _

“He sounds amazing,” Patton said wistfully.

“Mmhmm.” Roman nuzzled Patton’s hair. How could anything be so soft? Roman would play with Patton’s hair all day if he could.

A blissful, quiet few minutes passed, Roman’s gaze lazily tracing the sun gradually disappearing behind some housetops. An entire day had passed since he’d woken in the ravine, and Roman could only guess how long he’d been comatose down there.

Roman closed his eyes and sighed, Patton’s warmth and the exhaustion of a long day dripping sleep through his system despite the uncomfortable setting.

He hoped Anxiety was still alive. He could be in the town, but Roman doubted the prince would risk being recognized – but then again, Roman hadn’t recognized him. Regardless, the action seemed far out of Anxiety’s realm of comfort.

After recovering, then, he’d have to find Anxiety somewhere – after all, Roman’s duty as a knight-in-training included keeping citizens, especially princes, safe. Therefore he would be a dismal trainee if he did anything but search for Anxiety, and he could attempt to find his... lost item in the process.

“Hmm...” Patton hummed beneath him and Roman’s thoughts turned to the little puffball in his arms. Patton seemed too pure to be shunned but too homely to be displaced. Roman hated leaving him to a town who ignored him unless he was needed, but Roman could not figure out a solution to his plight.

Not three seconds later Patton yelped in fear, jolting to his feet and accidentally pushing Roman rather forcefully onto the steps. Backing away slowly, Patton’s sharp gaze flicked from the sunset to Roman’s bewildered expression.

“Go to the inn,” Patton said, sounding flatter and more serious than he’d ever heard him sound. “Now.”

“Patton–” Roman reached for the man, gradually getting to his feet. “Something’s–”

“Please?” Patton asked, voice cracking with emotion.

Roman wavered, then relented. “Okay.” He turned around and started down the steps, feet hesitant. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“If you want to,” Patton said vaguely, smiling the strained smile from before at him.

Roman stared for five fateful seconds before turning and starting towards the inn. Every step he took he wanted to turn around, but he would never deny Patton’s wishes. 

He’d figure Patton out somehow. Roman still had a few days before he could safely travel. Patton’s fast-pass version of healing helped much of his physical ailments but would not help him recover from minute malnutrition and dehydration.

Roman entered the inn without his usual fanfare, deciding to eat before sleeping. Sitting down, Roman waited a only a few seconds before someone whipped by to take his order.

Roman leaned back in the chair, a sudden sort of exhaustion sweeping through his body.

“Hey, you’re not from around here.”

Roman looked up, taking in a cloaked man with sparkling eyes and a hood.

Roman cracked a smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“That, and you caused quite the commotion, collapsing on our streets like that.” The man gestured to the chair opposite Roman. “May I sit?”

“Go ahead,” Roman nodded, scrutinizing him.

“I’m Damian,” he said after settling. “I’m just passing through, but I was born here, so I know everyone.”

“I’m Roman,” Roman replied, smiling easily. “I’m looking for something.”

“Oh?” Damian’s eyes glinted. “What is it? Perhaps I could help you find it.”

“It’s... a personal item,” Roman said, a sliver of unease poking at his lungs. “Thanks, though.”

_ It’s not here, anyway. _

“How’d you get all beat up, anyhow?” Damian asked, smoothly switching the topic of conversation.

“I was travelling through the forest when a... wyrm attacked me and my partner.”

“A wrym?” Damian said. “Those are rather rare.”

“And dangerous,” Roman added wryly. “I almost became its dinner.”

“And your partner?” Damian asked.

“We got separated,” Roman said. Inward irritation sparking, Roman shifted uncomfortably on the wooden chair.

“Unlucky,” Damian said, sounding anything but sorry. Roman made a noncommittal noise from the back of this throat but didn’t say anything.

“How long are you sticking around?” Damian said.

“Until I’ve recovered enough to travel again,” Roman replied, fidgeting with his fingers. His foot tapped like a metronome on the wooden floor.

“Smart.” Damian shrugged carelessly.

A piercing scream cut through the air and Roman jolted, slamming his knee on the underside of the table. Wildly, his eyes spun around the room, the other inhabitants forcefully going about their menial tasks, consciously ignoring the pitch.

“What the hell was that?” Roman stage-whispered. The scream had tapered off but varying cries still filtered in the inn. Someone shut the windows and the sound instantly muffled to the point of almost being inaudible. Roman felt sick to his stomach.

Damian, on the other hand, smirked and leaned forwards, eyes glowing. “Oh? Haven’t you heard?”

“What?” Roman leaned forwards despite himself, desperate for some explanation for why someone was  _ screaming  _ and why everyone else was intentionally ignoring it.

“Our little  _ healer _ ,” Damian said, inflicting the word as if it were a piece of particularly horrible trash, “is possessed.”

Roman’s mouth went dry. “Possessed?”

“Every night he loses himself. It started, hm... five or ten years ago. First night he almost clawed his own eyes out,” Damian said, tapping next to his own eye for extra effect. His expression twisted with a sadistic glee and Roman sank into his seat.

“Nobody can help him?” Roman asked, voice small.

“You wanna help that thing?” Damian said in disgust. “ _ Patton _ isn’t even human anymore. He’s lost himself. The only reason we haven’t offed him is because we need his healing.”

Nausea curled in Roman’s stomach, pushing at his throat. He stood up abruptly, pushing away from the table and chair.

“Where are you going?” Damian said, voice deceptively saccharine. “You haven’t even eaten yet.”

Roman avoided his gaze and started towards the rooms. “I’m not hungry.”

“Shame,” Damian said. His eyes followed Roman all the way to the door, lips curled and eyebrows low.


	3. Chapter 3

Logan didn’t ask for this. He didn’t ask for his monotonous, studious life to be interrupted in the middle of a storm. He didn’t ask for Charlie to come barreling through the trees, making a racket louder than the crashing thunder. He didn’t ask for a  _ person _ to sprint from the woods, running headfirst into his house and knocking themselves out.

And yet, here he was.

His name was Virgil.

“Why are you in the woods?” Logan asked, clutching his mug with tensed hands. Logan was not used to social interaction, and worried about freaking them out to the point of leaving.

“I was traveling with a man named Roman,” Virgil said, voice tense. “He was searching for an item, as am I.”

“An item?” Logan said thoughtfully. His fingers tapped against the side of the mug, the ceramic swirling with moving galaxies.

Virgil eyed the liquid-like print and nodded, providing no other information.

Logan shifted in place, staring into his tea. Should he say something? Provide a topic of conversation? 

How did one socialize?

“I’m sorry, I just–” Virgil stopped, inhaling slowly and holding his breath, exhaling before continuing. “Who are you, really?”

“Well, I told you my name is Logan,” Logan began, shoulders hunching instinctively. “I’ve lived here for five years. My magic is coloring objects with moving galaxy print, while keeping said objects with all their former capabilities. I travel to the town to obtain resources every other week.”

“Well, that’s certainly...” Virgil almost smiled, hiding his face behind his own mug. “Certainly some facts about yourself.”

“Yes,” Logan said slowly, feeling as if he were missing a point. “Did you want... something else?”

“I mean...” Virgil shifted, crossing his legs on the chair and sinking into the cushions. “After... After Roman, I realized that I shouldn’t keep myself so... closed. I regret not telling him my... my name, and I regret... not... getting to know him, more.” He stumbled over his words, as if not used to talking so much.

“Ah,” Logan said eloquently. He pursed his lips and stared at the wall. “I’m not a very interesting individual, I warn you.”

“I like that,” Virgil blurted, then turned red.

Logan blinked at him in surprise. “Uh.”

“I mean, mostly, that, well, my life is so complicated, so it’s refreshing, to have, simplicity,” Virgil stuttered, curling into himself.

“Oh,” Logan said. “Well. I’m not used to... I’m not good at social interaction.”

“Haven’t talked to anyone recently?” Virgil said.

“N... no...” Logan stared at him. “I am a hermit.”

“I gathered,” Virgil said, covering his mouth with his mug again. “The kids back home would play this game, twenty questions? And they would ask each other questions, to get to know each other.”

“They named asking questions?” Logan said. “Why didn’t they simply ask each other questions and leave it at that?”

Virgil shrugged. “Naming things makes them more fun.”

“Oh, alright,” Logan said, nodding.

There was a beat of silence until Virgil said, “Want to go first?”

“Oh!” Logan startled, sitting straight and blinking at Virgil. “Well, where are you from?”

“I’m from... Metus,” Virgil said slowly, sipping from his mug. “Yeah.”

“Metus is rather far from here,” Logan observed. “You have traveled far.”

“I guess I have.” Virgil shifted again, curling in tighter.

“Are you cold?” Logan asked, already starting to stand. “Perhaps I could find some blankets–”

“No, I’m fine,” Virgil said. Then he stared at the floor, cheeks turning pink. “Maybe you could– I mean, sorry, never mind.”

“Anything you need I will provide,” Logan prompted him but only received a ducked head and darkening ears.

Logan got him some blankets, which Virgil accepted without another word.

“Your turn, I believe,” Logan said, settling back into his own chair.

“If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?” Virgil asked.

Logan realized then how the game was supposed to go. He mused over the question while examining the functions of twenty questions – instead of mere questions, one asked searching questions that would not normally be asked in an average conversation.

“I suppose I’d want...” Logan’s mind swirled through idea after idea. A library with all the books he could ever want, a house with better insulation, a less annoying magic, a  _ family _ .

Logan froze at that, eyes trained at the floor. A family. That’s right.

“Logan?” Virgil said softly.

“Perhaps a friend,” Logan murmured, hands tight around the mug. He refused to meet Virgil’s eyes. “What’s your favorite childhood memory?”

“Logan...” Virgil said, indiscernible emotions layering his voice. “How long have you been alone?”

“It’s my turn to ask the question,” Logan said instead, arms tensing. His eyes bore holes into the wooden flooring.

“Alright,” Virgil relented, easily reading Logan’s defensive body language. “I would sneak out and climb trees in the woods. A girl would always be there to play with me – her name was Martha. I loved playing with her. She had a fire in her blood.”

Logan’s mug shattered between his hands and he bent over, nearly pressing the ceramic shards into his face. The remnants of the mug dropped to the floor with a dreary thudding noise, and Logan touched his cheeks, his nose, his eyes – his eyes were wet, they dripped onto his fingers, because he hasn’t heard that name, that name –

“Logan, oh my god!” Virgil appeared at his side, gently pulling his hands away from his face and examining the skin there, fingers feather-light as they brushed over the cuts in Logan’s hands, the cuts dripping blood almost lazily over Logan’s fingers and to the floor.

Logan sniffled, watching the wounds with little reaction.

Virgil pulled at his forearms. “Logan, we have to clean up your hands.”

Compliant, Logan followed Virgil’s pull, walking over to a container of water. Virgil poured the water over Logan’s hands, using a towel to wipe periodically. He found a gauze and some medicine, rubbing the solution into Logan’s hands and wrapping them with a single-minded focus.

Logan watched him silently, mind reeling. He didn’t ask for this. He had a simple life. He’d  _ built _ a simple life.

“Logan,” Virgil said gently. He tugged him back to the wide chair and pulled him into it. With barely enough room for the both of them, Virgil was pressed next to Logan and Logan shuddered; he hadn’t had physical contact for, oh, it must have been a year or so by now...

The fire flickered and Logan stared at it, at the dancing flames and crackling wood.

“What was that?” Virgil finally asked.

Logan touched his drying face and sniffled again, closing his eyes. Eliminating one of his senses seemed to help him gather his thoughts, to be coherent.

“I’m sorry,” Logan said once he felt he could speak. His voice, thick with emotion, sounded like someone else.

“No,” Virgil interrupted. “Don’t apologize.”

“Okay,” Logan said, deciding he was too tired to argue. “I don’t know how to say this.”

“I’ve felt it’s easiest just to say it,” Virgil advised him. “Like ripping off a bandaid.”

“Okay.” Logan kept his eyes shut tight. “I think I’m your childhood friend.”

“My childhood friend?” Virgil repeated, confusion coloring his tone.

Logan waited.

“You mean  _ Martha _ ?” Virgil said, disbelief and shock blatant. “But she– he— you–” Virgil sputtered. “Left, so you came here–”

“My parents,” Logan said monotonously. “Said I was unnatural.”

“Because–”

“I am a girl, yes,” Logan said, flinching violently at his own words.

“ _ No _ ,” Virgil asserted, voice forceful and so quick that Logan opened his eyes in surprise, staring at Virgil’s darkened, grounded expression. “You told me you are a boy. He/him pronouns. I don’t give a shit what others say you are.  _ You _ say who you are.”

“Biologically–”

“I  _ don’t give a shit _ ,” Virgil said forcefully, reaching up and holding Logan’s face delicately, like he was something to be treasured.

Logan swallowed, feeling liquid prickle at the sides of his eyes again.

“Do you feel like a boy?” Virgil said, not breaking eye contact. “Logan? Do you feel like Logan?”

“I like Logan,” Logan whispered. “That’s why I left.”

“Oh my god,” Virgil pulled Logan’s head into his shoulder, holding Logan as if he were about to fly away. “They told me you disliked me so much you ran.”

“I could never,” Logan said, voice muffled. “They told me I was going to get married and wear dresses for the rest of my life, and they just, kept calling me, Martha, and–”

“I can’t believe it,” Virgil said. “You’re... Logan. My childhood friend. I found you.”

Logan hesitantly snaked his arm around Virgil’s torso. “You found me.”

Virgil laughed. “Only took a storm and a wyrm to do it.”

“Thank god for Charlie,” Logan agreed.

Virgil paused, then pulled Logan back to look him in the eye. “Did you just say Charlie?”

Logan stared at him. “Yes?”

Virgil blinked. “Charlie?”

“That’s their name, yes,” Logan said uncertainly, unsure why Virgil’s expression was suddenly so blank.

“You named the wyrm,” Virgil said flatly.

“I mean, technically, they chose the name,” Logan said. “I went through about a dozen before they landed on that one–”

“That wyrm almost killed me and Roman,” Virgil reminded him.

“They were protecting me,” Logan said, wincing as he realized the extent of the situation. “They hate it when travelers get close to my home, because usually the travelers are actually thieves and they steal my things.”

“A guardian wyrm. Named Charlie.”

“Charlie’s not the only one, of course,” Logan said, unaware of Virgil’s expression. “There’s Nyssa, the gryffin, and Splice, the mermaid, and sometimes Verity stops around the woods.”

A realization dawned on Virgil and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. “All these magical creatures just decided to protect you?”

“I guess.” Logan shrugged.

“Logan, you’re...” Virgil had to stop and collect himself before plowing on. “You’re the reason this forest is so dangerous.”

Logan blinked at him. “This forest is classified as dangerous?”

Virgil collapsed onto Logan, a disbelieving smile pulling at his lips. “Oh my god.”

“Sorry! I haven’t gossiped recently,” Logan said, voice taking on a teasing edge.

“You’re unbelievable,” Virgil mumbled, keeping his face buried in Logan’s shoulder. “Unbelievable.”

“So I’ve been told,” Logan replied, tightening his hold on Virgil. “I’ll tell them to tone it down, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Virgil laughed. “That’d be good.”

“Okay,” Logan said.

Perhaps he hadn’t asked for this. Perhaps he hadn’t asked for Virgil’s timely arrival, or for his simple life to be interrupted.

But he’d be damned if he didn’t appreciate it.

—

Patton knew he wasn’t coming back. Patton knew, deep in his heart and bones, that Roman, the wonderful, charismatic man, the adventurer, the –

It didn’t matter who he was. He wasn’t coming back.

Patton smiled hysterically, pulling at his hair and falling backwards against the wall of the church, marble pressing at his spine as he slid down, hitting the cold ground with a soft thud.  _ Look look look at the ceiling the floors they stuffed you in the only place they could because they KNOW they know they know – _

Patton tightened his grip on his arm, nails digging into his arm. A low-pitched scream stretched from his throat that slowly grew as his thoughts grew louder and louder, overtaking every function of his body, enveloping his mind in chanting –

The doors slammed open and Patton flinched so violently he fell over, curling into a small ball and pressing his forehead against the floor.

“Patton!”

The knight. The man beloved by a prince, the survivor, the wounded.

His voice sounded so clear that Patton almost believed he was here –

“Patton, please, say something.”

A presence by his side, a soft touch to his shoulder, and Patton whined pitifully and curled closer into himself. Tight, tight.

“You’re burning up, but...”

“Go away,” Patton scratched out, throat raw and hurting. “Please. Don’t make this worse than it has to be.”

“They said you’re possessed,” Roman blurted out.

“I’m not!” Patton uncurled somewhat, becoming upright in the process, and glared at Roman through watery eyes. “I’m not  _ possessed!  _ Every damn time I heal someone I–”

He wilted and sobbed into his arms folded over his knees, shying away from Roman’s gaze.

“Patton, I just think you’re lonely,” Roman murmured, gently touching his hair. “And in the need of a moodstone, frankly. I figured something out.”

Patton didn’t answer, sniffling morosely.

“Your magic is similar to that of a moodstone. The pain and emotions you heal don’t disperse, they harbor themselves within you – all you need is a moodstone to release the excess and you’ll be yourself again.”

“I haven’t been myself for seven years,” Patton whispered, staring at nothing. “Every night the emotions get louder and I can’t keep them in anymore. They stuck me in the church. I used to live on the little house with a chicken coup, nearby the bakery. I had little chickens and I would – I would go, to the bakery, just to talk to the baker, and–” Patton choked on a sob.

“You’re wonderful, Patton,” Roman said softly. “You are yourself, simply intensified and overwhelmed.  The townspeople don’t see it. But you’re wonderful and your magic does not warrant quarantine.”

“I can’t be,” Patton said. “I can’t be wonderful because I’ve hurt people.”

“We’ve all hurt people,” Roman opposed gently. “That doesn’t make you less of a person.”

“I can’t handle this,” Patton whispered harshly.

“It’s okay to ask for help,” Roman said.

“I stopped asking for help when they stopped giving it!” Patton shouted. His eyes trained on Roman’s, dark and stormy. “I heal. That’s my job. That’s why I’m still here. They would have drowned me and called it an accident, because every night I lose my grasp on emotions and I have to let it out, Roman, because I’m bursting at the seams, I can’t handle myself! And they hate me, they  _ hate  _ me because they can’t do anything other than bar me in a church and lock their doors because I’m the best healer they’re ever gonna get!”

“Oh, Patton,” Roman said, sadness and horror coloring his tone. “I’m so sorry.”

“I deserve it,” Patton said hollowly. “I deserve–”

“No,” Roman interrupted, voice suddenly lined with steel. “You do not deserve any of this treatment. You have an ailment just like they do, and they are unable to cure you, to help you. You deserve as much help as they do.”

“I don’t, I really don’t,” Patton said.

“You do,” Roman insisted. “I promise you, Patton, you–”

“Don’t promise!” Patton yelled. Then he quieted down, staring at the cold, unforgiving floor. “Please don’t promise. They always break their promises.”

“Okay,” Roman said. “Then, I am positive you deserve help.”

_ You’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong because I am a bad person and you need to leave– _

“Why are you here? It’s nighttime,” Patton said.

“I heard you scream,” Roman said. “Screaming means help, Patton, the townspeople simply cannot see that.”

“No, they’re afraid,” Patton said. Something bubbled under his skin, a need, a want, pulsing and pushing. He wondered for a moment of the consequences but, when had his meticulously careful verbiage effected how others saw him?

“Your screaming frightens them, yes, but–”

“No, they aren’t afraid of that.” Patton dug his chin into his knees. “I can do more than just heal.”

Patton waited for the words to sink in, for Roman to wordlessly stand up and leave the church, for Roman to tell them all how Patton has officially lost it, for Roman to leave him like all the others.

“When I was five years old,” Roman said.

Patton glanced at him in confusion, limbs instinctively relaxing from his tense position.

“I wanted to play knight,” Roman continued, gazing at the stained glass close to the ceiling. “So we would switch off being the princess, damsel in distress. One of the boys was in the tree, and.”

Roman swallowed, and Patton felt the nerves roll off him in waves, mixing with Roman’s guilt and resolve.

“One of the boys was in the tree and my magic... well. You know how a kid’s magic is. Fluctuating wildly. And while most kids magic was small, this wasn’t a problem, but...” Roman took a deep breath and plowed on. “I lit the tree on fire. The boy ended up with burns covering his body and they covered my fists and wrists with tough fibers which wouldn’t burn.”

“You were young,” Patton said, reaching out to take some of his pain, just to help, because Roman was helping him and would want some in return, of course–

“Stop,” Roman shied away from his hand. “Do not burden yourself over me. My magic, like yours, is more powerful than average and is therefore feared. It’s not your fault.”

“But...” Patton screwed up his face. “That’s my purpose.”

“Your purpose is to be yourself and enjoy it,” Roman corrected. “Especially for you, because you need some TLC.”

“TLC?” Patton asked. “What’s that?”

“Tender loving care, of course,” Roman said flippantly. “Don’t worry, I have that in droves.”

“Oh!” Heat rushed to Patton’s cheeks and he hide them behind his knees. “Oh, but you have responsibilities. Don’t waste time on little old me.”

“Responsibilities,” Roman said, sounding like he’d said something especially disheartening. “I don’t have any responsibilities anymore. Only to find the prince. And my most treasured possession.”

“The prince, and your most treasured possession,” Patton repeated. He sniffled again, rubbing at his eyes and nose. His skin felt taut and dusty warm, and he fumbled for his handkerchief to blow his nose. He glanced at Roman, who carefully watched his every move. “What’s your most treasured possession?”

_ What did a knight treasure above all else? _

“My...” Roman swallowed, eyes falling to his hands. He fiddled with his fingers and worried his lip.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Patton said, trying and failing to keep his disappointment from leaking through his voice.

“No, it’s just...” Roman shrugged. “It’s a knife.”

Patton blinked.  _ A knife. For... for what? _

_ What could a knight need a knife for? _

A shiver traveled up Patton’s spine.

_ What do you need a knife for? _

“What kind of–” Patton choked out but couldn’t continue.

“It was given to me at a young age,” Roman said, flinching at Patton’s stuttering. “I think. It showed up at our doorstep mere days after I was born. It holds – I mean, the blade contains...”

“I have a knife,” Patton blurted out, then smacked his hand over his mouth in horror.  _ Oh no no no no no – _

“Mine’s... special,” Roman said carefully. “It... oh, promise not to tell anyone, please, Patton?”

“There’s nobody to tell,” Patton said, the words falling out of his mouth before he could stop them. Roman’s expression twisted and he added, “I promise, of course, Roman, I would never betray...”

He left the statement open and hanging.

“It’s connected to my power,” Roman said, voice hushed. “The knife contains my magic. The longer I’m away from it, I lose more of my power, and... well, you know what happens when a mage loses their magic.”

“Oh,” Patton breathed, the extent of the situation settling in his mind. A tense pulse started between Patton’s lungs and he hurt for Roman, water pressing behind his eyes. “Oh, Roman.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Roman insisted. “Don’t worry about me. But that is my goal. To find the prince and the knife.”

“Your knife...” Patton murmured. His finger traced the floor absentmindedly. “Mine is the same. It... it disappeared four days ago.”

“Oh no,” Roman said. “You’re the other... one of... most powerful...” He cleared his throat and massaged his temple. “Alright. Why not?”

“Sorry?” Patton blinked at Roman, who suddenly looked a lot paler than before.

“The legend, Patton, the story, of witches and wizards and knights and demons and monsters–”

“’The blades will lead to victory’, I know,” Patton recited, reaching out to console him. “But we’re not... we don’t have some fanatical destiny, we just received these abilities and a knife to contain them.”

“ _ The blades will lead to victory,”  _ Roman murmured. “ _ One for health and two for strength, three for aid and four for when there’s nothing left to do.” _

“Which...” Patton forced the words out of his mouth. “Where did you hear the rest.”

“I have ‘two for strength’,” Roman said slowly.

“ _ Where did you hear the rest _ ?” Patton demanded.

“I found it,” Roman whispered, haunted. “I found the box and all the words were on it.”

“The forth blade,” Patton guessed. “It’s the box, isn’t it?”

“I mean, they’re keys to something,” Roman said. “What does yours say?”

“It said ‘one for health’,” Patton said. The engraved blade flashed behind his eyes for a split second and a deep ache filled his bones. “The stories always have a box and three blades...”

“Yeah.”

“Where did you find the box?”

“In a garden,” Roman said. “When I was maybe ten, and we visited a neighboring kingdom. I snuck over this gate and walked the garden. The box was under a bench and I read it then.”

“Did you... did you take it?” Patton asked, holding his breath.

“No!” Roman said forcefully. Taking a deep breath, Roman recomposed himself and said, “If I took it then they would lose their source of power.”

“Did you meet them?”

Roman pressed the tips of his fingers together before clenching them into a fist. “No.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. We’ll... we’ll find each other somehow, right?”

“They do in all the stories.”

“So we have to stay positive! We will meet the others,” Patton said, his stubborn nature showing through.

Roman stared at him like he was seeing him for the first time. “You’re very strong.”

“Oh, no, me?” Patton said in surprise. “I like to think positively, that’s all! I used to not, but I would never get anything done, and thinking positively has kept me going all these years!”

Roman’s heart ached but he smiled at Patton, awe in his eyes and resolve filling his veins. “That’s an incredible sign of strength. So many before you would have given up.”

Patton didn’t answer, a small smile flickering across his face. Roman’s heart swelled at the sight.

The sunrise peeked over the hills through the window, shining on the crown of Patton’s head, and Roman basked in Patton’s genuine smile and invisible glow.

—

Damian stalked through town, a scowl prominent on his face. They said he’d  _ left _ , left the inn, like some sort of hero, and he’d talked to the teenagers and they reported seeing him go to the  _ church _ , because of Patton’s screaming.

Stupid, stupid Patton and his stupid screams.

_ Possessed, _ though. He’d really stretched on that one. Because Damian, of all people, knew Patton was not possessed. But now that newbie, Roman, was going to  _ talk _ to him and that simply was not okay.

Patton couldn’t have Roman befriend him. Correction:  _ Damian _ couldn’t have them become friends. Those two specifically – dangerous, dangerous individuals.

Damian knew Patton had a heart of gold and a power to match.

Damian also knew Roman had a knight’s mentality and strength to finish any task he put his mind too.

Together, though... Damian might be in trouble.

No, no, thinking like that was no good. Damian contained endless control, he knew how to walk, how to talk, how to manipulate others specifically to his whims. And if his charms didn’t work, he had an ace up his sleeve.

But Patton, Patton was his sitting duck. His fish in a barrel. Roman couldn’t come in and poke holes in his plan like this.

Damian crafted Patton’s life carefully and harshly, pushing him into a church and closing the doors.

His knife also sat in his pocket, wrapped carefully in fabric.


	4. Chapter 4

Virgil hated himself.

He also clambered through the woods, following the trail of broken branches.

_ You’re HORRIBLE you’re awful you abandoned him in the woods he’s all alone and hurting and you LEFT. _

A nasty seed sprouted in Virgil’s heart and he pushed at his chest, kneading and massaging, hoping the pain would dull. The disgusted growth of vines and thorns spread through his body, circling his organs and bones, tightening and strangling...

Logan  _ needed  _ him. Logan was alone, Logan was in pain, Logan needed words of affirmation and words of love and words of  _ you matter, you haven’t disappeared– _

But Virgil left. Three days, three days of suppressed giggles and brushing hands, of Logan teaching him how to knead dough and Virgil teaching him a game with cards. Their childhood reignited, and Virgil had felt a calm like no other wash over him.

But he left. He left in the middle of the night, moving from Logan’s arms to write a note and gather his belongings and  _ leave,  _ walking out the door like it was the easiest action in the world, through the forest.

Bright, inhuman eyes followed his movements and Virgil nearly keeled over in regret.

“It’s fine it’s fine it’s fine,” Virgil chanted under his breath, climbing over a fallen tree. “It’s fine it’s fine it’s–” his bare forearm brushed against a leaf and it exploded, Virgil yelping in fear and losing his balance.

_ “I’m so glad you’re here,”  _ Logan had said.  _ “I’ve been alone for so long I forgot how it felt to be happy...” _

Virgil cried, brushing at his cheeks and forcing himself to his feet. “It’s fine it’s fine...”

_ Virgil was making them tea. He took his glove off to feel the temperature of the water, expecting it to become perfect or to simply do nothing – as his magic was fickle, but it never did anything he didn’t want it to. _

_ The water froze instantly, cracking the mug from the expansion, and icy fear swept through his veins. _

“Find the town, Roman said there was a town nearby,” Virgil said, panting and shaking.

“Who are you talking to?”

Virgil shrieked but managed to keep his balance.

A creature the size of a beaver perched on a branch far above his head. They had luminescent skin and the front of a feline with a monkey-like face. Past their midsection their body turned into a tail, moving hypnotically through the air, their entire body glowing a soft green-blue color.

“Who are – what are–” Virgil sputtered, bringing his hands up in case he needed to guard his chest or neck.

“I am G.” They shook their shoulders, a thin gauze floating out from their neck. “I protect L.”

_ Logan. _

“He didn’t – he didn’t mention you,” Virgil said, which. Probably was not the smartest thing in that moment.

“L does not know about me,” G stated. “I am the invisible protector. Because of L, this forest has gained meaning again.”

“Uh...” Virgil rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was hallucinating.

“And you gave L meaning again,” G said. “V.”

“What the hell,” Virgil whispered.

“V, why do you run?”

“Get away from me,” Virgil said flatly, starting to walk away. The broken trees and grooves in the ground had already set him on edge thinking of the wyrm, and now this...  _ thing  _ was talking to him.

He made it past two fallen trees when he noticed G floating behind him, quiet and pensive. Virgil turned around and they perched on another branch with their two front paws, this time level with his eyes.

The iris of their eyes seemed to swirl with galaxies, pale green and deep purple mixing in unison.

G didn’t ask again but Virgil knew what they wished to hear.

“How do you know my name?” Virgil asked instead. “Well, the first letter, anyway.”

“V is not your name,” G stated. “V is a bastardization of your name.”

Virgil sighed, a headache starting between his ears. “What is my name, then?”

They opened their mouth and let out an inhuman mixture of squeaks and slides, and Virgil regretted asking.

“What are you?” Virgil asked, again avoiding the answer G wanted.

“I am the spirit of the forest, eternal and void, and protector of L.”

“Oh, my god.”

“Answer,” G said, their voice soft but demanding, a small shimmer of green-blue escaping their mouth.

_ Why do you run? _

“I can’t hurt him, alright?” Virgil snapped, throwing his hands in the air. “God! Are you happy? I can’t hurt him! He doesn’t deserve that!”

“Human,” G said, formerly airy voice hard as steel and colder, too. “You coward.”

“Don’t fucking say that,” Virgil said, words darkening with anger. “I am  _ protecting _ him. You think I want to leave? You think I want to leave the three best days of my life? You don’t know  _ anything _ .”

“On the contrary,” G said. They didn’t elaborate and Virgil let out an irritated noise from the back of his throat, continuing his trek through the forest.

_ His fingers brushed against a pencil, and the pencil crumbled into ash. _

_ Virgil lost his breath. He hadn’t activated his magic. He’d just been holding it... _

“Protecting,” Virgil repeated under his breath. His feet jerked, fury remaining from his conversation.

G followed him. “Human, human,” G called.

“Leave me  _ ALONE!”  _ Virgil screeched, voice cracking. “I can’t! I can’t die and I can’t live, my box is missing, my magic is haywire, and I’m a danger! To everything! Around me!”

G stared at him, unblinking. “You coward.”

Virgil yelled and threw a rock at G, sparkling with magic. G vanished into thin air before the rock hit its mark.

Virgil pushed at his cheeks, fresh tears making tracks down his face, and forged on.

The rock hit the ground and sparked for a second before lying, dormant.

—

Patton had no question as to how Roman managed to woo a prince.

And that was how he referred to his former companion,  _ the prince _ , never by name. Patton wondered if it were a statement of pride – “ _ I  _ personally know a prince!” – or a matter of privacy – “nobody can know his name because I respect him.”

Based on the content of Roman’s speeches, he assumed it was the latter.

Either way, simply watching Roman talk was enough for Patton. Roman used his whole body to talk, gesturing and pacing even, sometimes. His voice, full and deep, sounded melodic to Patton’s ears, and he could listen to Roman all day.

And Patton sent him away at dusk, as he should have, saying a silent goodbye and watching his silhouette disappear into the inn. Night fell, and Patton… well.

But then he came  _ back _ .

And he  _ stayed _ .

Patton hummed happily to himself, meticulously working through some embroidery. He’d taken it up a few years ago but hadn’t managed to maintain his former motivation.

Roman gave him his motivation back, and Patton thought he’d give Roman his little handkerchief with small forget-me-nots scattered on the corner, small green vines forming a delicate border.

Once he was done, of course.

A loud bang pounded through the church and Patton startled, the needle pricking his finger. Patton frowned at the small spot of blood, the tiny prick glowing green before disappearing altogether.

Then he focused his attention to the front of the church, his fake smile already plastered on his face as he prepared to address the newcomer–

The smile fell off his face like water off a duck’s back, all the blood fleeing from his face. His skin felt tingly, like he was moments away from being in danger of fainting. His vision tunneled for a few scary seconds, white spots blinking like he’d stared at the sun for too long.

“ _ Damian _ ,” Patton said hoarsely, scrambling to his feet and twisting his limbs awkwardly, like he’d forgotten how to move.

“Patton,” Damian said, his normally smooth-as-silk voice harsh and low, a scratching sound that grated against Patton’s ears. “Been a while, huh?”

“No,” Patton said lowly, shaking and trembling. “No, no no no no nonono…”

“Really, Patton, it’s almost like you don’t like me,” Damian said, voice betraying the underlying truth in his words. Patton hated this, he hated listening to Damian and trying to decipher his words and figure out which were lies, which were truths, which were some gray space in between.

“Get away from me,” Patton forced out, his throat threatening to close completely. “Get – get  _ away.” _

“I need to talk to you first,” Damian said, approaching Patton.

“ _ STOP!”  _ Patton held his hand out and stumbled backwards. “I– I don’t want you here, leave me alone!”

“The thing is, Patton,” Damian said slowly, meticulously. “What you want doesn’t matter, eh? You need to do something for me, and you listen, correct?”

Patton viciously shook his head and Damian grabbed onto his wrist, squeezing tightly – a heavy contrast to Roman’s light, caring touch. Panic shot through Patton’s veins and he tried to wrench his hand away, but Damian’s grip was like steel.

“P-please, please let go,” Patton said, his voice started to devolve into sputtering. “I d-don’t–”

“You  _ will _ listen to me,” Damian said, words like a bear trap. His eyes started glowing a soft gold. “Don’t forget the  _ power  _ I hold over you.”

Various sputters fell from Patton’s lips, indiscernible.

“You will listen,  _ correct?” _

_ “Correct,”  _ Patton said, voice inflicted and doubled for a split second. His hand shot to cover his mouth, tears springing in his eyes helplessly.  _ No no no nononononono– _

Damian’s eyes were alight and Patton hated the entire situation, his own eyes wide and fearful.  _ I can’t go through this again, I can’t listen to him again, I have no power I’m weak and everything I do…  _

“You must bring Roman here,” Damian said. Something broke within Patton, his own little  _ crack _ . “And you are going to tell him to leave and never come back.”

_ “You’re wonderful, Patton. You are yourself, simply intensified and overwhelmed. The townspeople don’t see it. But you’re wonderful and your magic does not warrant quarantine.” _

A seed of strength and resolve sprouted in Patton’s chest.  _ No _ . No. He wouldn’t listen to Damian. Not now, not ever.

Patton pushed through and pushed past Damian, falling onto his hands while trying to sprint away, away,  _ away _ .

Damian shouted and reached around, grasping for Patton, but he slipped out of Damian’s fingers and started crying, large tears dripping down his cheeks. A loud sob tore from his throat and Patton scrambled forwards, the cold church floor slipping under his nails.

Somehow, Patton avoided Damian’s grasping fingers and bolted out the door with nothing but the clothes on his back and leftover thread in his pocket.

A yell sounded from inside the church but Patton wasn’t going back, he wasn’t turning around. All he could do was sprint towards the woods and hope, just hope, that Damian wasn’t following him.

Because Damian wouldn’t be able to use him this time. He  _ wouldn't _ .

Patton wouldn’t let him.

—

_ I’m sorry. _

Logan trembled, the paper crumpling between his fingers, thick creases cutting through words. Staring at his window, through the glass, into the dense forest.

His legs gave out beneath him and he collapsed to the floor, shoulders shaking.  _ I’m sorry. _

Logan touched his face, veins frozen and water streaking down his cheeks. His carefully constructed dam of emotions cracked.

_ I’m sorry. _

A choked noise jumped from Logan’s throat. The house started to shake.

—

G’s words affected him more than he wanted them to.

Virgil didn’t stop thinking about Logan during his entire trip, which ended up... well, it seemed to be lasting longer than it should. He swore he’d reach the town by now, he hadn’t gotten  _ that  _ far off course when escaping the wyrm.

_ Dear Logan, by this time you must have realized I’m gone. _

Virgil walked around a particularly large tree, taking a moment to feel the roughness of the bark when it started crumbling to ash underneath his fingertips. Alarmed, Virgil drew back. His left glove had turned into liquid an hour ago or so and Virgil didn’t want to touch his extras in case they disappeared, too.

_ It’s come to my attention that I am a danger to everyone around me. _

Virgil came to a stream and stared at it. The storm a few days ago must have been larger than he thought, because the water swelled along the banks and rushed over rocks. The earlier concern about being lost came back full force, squeezing around his lungs and pounding on his head.

_ After the third broken cup – which I didn’t drop, by the way – I knew something had to be done. _

He bit his lip and slowly approached the stream, removing his right glove as he went. The water was ice-cold to the touch, and Virgil plunged both hands into the water until they were submerged.

_ I can’t endanger you. You mean too much to me for that. _

Virgil infused magic into his hands and pulsed. Large sparks flickered from his fingers and a much larger amount of magic than he intended expelled from his palms. The water turned into sand at least ten feet both ways from where Virgil sat. Not waiting another second, Virgil scurried across the stretch of sand before the backlog of water upstream overtook him.

_ I’m sorry. I know what I did is unforgivable, and I’m not asking for forgiveness, I don’t deserve that…  _

Something crashed through the trees and Virgil swung behind a large trunk, breathing heavily and peeking out behind the wood. A sniffle, then silence. The hairs on Virgil’s arms raised. Something wasn’t right.

_I’m sorry._ _From_ _Love_ _–Virgil_

“Is... is somebody there?”

Virgil startled and pressed his back to the rough bark, hoping and praying whoever had spoken would  _ leave _ .

“Hey, I’m… I’m sorry for scaring you,” the voice called out again. Ferns rustled nearby Virgil’s tree and liquid terror shot through Virgil’s veins. He started shaking, goosebumps covering his skin.

“Please, I don’t mean any harm.” Their voice sounded not five feet from Virgil’s tree and he swallowed thickly, shrinking down and wrapping his arms around his knees.

“My name is Patton,” they said softly. They sounded nice enough, but Virgil had long learned to never trust anyone, no matter how kind they appeared.

(Maybe… maybe he’d made one exception for Logan. But Logan was a hermit, and he’d started crying within an hour of Virgil waking up, and he was basically Virgil’s longest friend, so he didn’t count.)

“Patton” appeared in his line of vision but Virgil stayed quiet, trying to sink into the tree or maybe under the earth and never come back up.

“Please,” Patton said, voice cracking, worn. “I want – proof, I want to know if Roman was  _ right _ and I – is someone there?”

Virgil paused.  _ Roman... _ how many people named Roman were there?

_ Did that mean Roman was alive? _

Hope threatened to overtake his being and Virgil swallowed thickly, pushing the tentative hope deep down, unwilling to set himself up for failure.

“Oh,” Patton said, and Virgil looked up. Their eyes locked.

Virgil’s eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet, ready to bolt.

“No, please, don’t!” Patton pleaded, stumbling forward. “I’m all alone and I don’t know what to do! Please don’t leave!”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Virgil said. The words came out rough and low.

“I’ll heal you!” Patton said, tripping over his words. “I’ll – I’ll help you in any way I can, maybe, I just...”

Virgil stared at him, eyes unreadable. He wanted to know about Roman but he definitely could not say so outright. “You mentioned someone else before, why don’t you go back to them?”

“Roman?” Patton said, expression changing drastically into surprise. The mere mention of the name had Patton straightening his spine, confidence seeping into his tone. “He’s a friend, I... left him in the village when I ran, but I can’t go back...” Patton frowned. “I wish I could’ve talked to him more... he said he was looking for a prince. No, his prince,” Patton clarified, a finger tapping against his chin.

Virgil’s face flushed and he looked away so Patton couldn’t see. “Sounds flighty.”

“He’s wonderful, you see,” Patton said. “I’ve never had anyone help me before, and the way he spoke... he said I deserved love, like anyone else.”

Virgil blinked.  _ What the hell? _ “What the hell?”

“Y... yeah! Roman said I deserved love, and I deserved friendship, and I deserved all those other things most people get, even though...”

Virgil’s veins froze. “Even though...?”

“Even though... uh... I have... emotional... issues.”

That was a stretch of truth if he’d ever seen one, but Virgil couldn’t find any reason not to trust Patton, other than the fact that he was a complete stranger.

“Alright, Patton, what do you want?” Virgil said flatly.

“Sorry?” Patton asked.

“You said you didn’t want me to leave. I’m not leaving at this moment. What do you want?”

“I want...” Patton said. “I want to find something. Something valuable to me.”

“And what’s that?” Virgil asked, examining his fingernails.

“A knife.”

Virgil choked on his own spit. “Sorry,  _ what _ ?”

“It’s a knife,” Patton said, spreading his hands out to show the length. “Has engravings on it.  _ One for health _ . Have you seen it?”

Virgil stumbled backwards, mouth agape as images flashed before his eyes.  _ One for health.  _ He pressed a palm to the rough bark of a tree.  _ Two for strength _ . Patton made a soft sound of alarm, reaching towards him.  _ Three for aid. _ The bark started smoothing out under his fingers.  _ And four for when there’s nothing left to do. _

The tree solidified into a perfect cylinder of metal, the leaves glinting iridescent green.

“You have a knife,” Virgil said. His voice sounded hollow, even to his own ears, which were pounding. “You have one of the knives. I never thought I’d...”

“You have one too,” Patton guessed, lightly touching the cold metal. “You’re one of us.”

“I don’t have a knife,” Virgil said. “Well. I have a box.”

Patton stared at him.

Virgil stared back.

“And with Roman...”

“What about Roman?” Virgil asked, harsh and scorching, too passionate to be for some stranger.

“Do you... do you know him?” Patton asked, voice small.

“He’s.... I’m...” Virgil weighed his options. “The prince. The prince he was talking about? That’s... that’s me.”

“The prince,” Patton repeated, dumbfounded. “You’re the prince. You’re the prince! Oh my goodness, now we really need to find him – Oh, oh, should I bow? I’ve never met a prince before, I don’t know how to–”

“Don’t,” Virgil said. “Don’t treat me like a prince. Just treat me like a random stranger.”

“Okay...” Patton said, trailing off.

He fidgeted, waiting for Virgil to say something. When Virgil remained quiet, he continued.

“That means...” Patton said. “We have three of the four items. Or we know three holders of the four holders.”

“Three?” Virgil said. “There’s only two of us here.”

Patton’s expression twisted into something horribly sad, eyes woeful as he gazed at Virgil. His voice was hushed as he said, “he didn’t tell you?”

A slow realization swept through Virgil but he asked, he had to ask to make sure... “Who?”

“Roman,” Patton said, unknowingly taking Virgil’s world and squeezing it like a lemon. “ _ Two for strength.  _ That’s Roman.”

“Then we have...” Virgil tried to start, mouth dry. “We have one for health, two for strength, and three for aid.”

“What?” Patton said. His eyebrows furrowed, shoulders relaxing as he fiddled with his hands.

“You didn’t know?” Virgil asked.

“Know what?”

“The final blade,” Virgil said carefully, avoiding Patton’s eyes. “You don’t need it to open the box.”

“ _ What?” _

_ “ _ The first two, yeah,” Virgil said hurriedly. “Yours and... and Roman’s, I’m guessing, and then mine, of course, as the box that needs to be opened, but the stone can be taken with just those three.”

“Then what’s the fourth... or the third knife for?” Patton asked.

“That?” Virgil clenched and unclenched his hand. “That activates it.”

“For when there’s nothing left to do,” Patton whispered. “Oh my god.”

Virgil paused at his horrified tone. “...what is it?”

“I’m starting to think our knives didn’t disappear,” Patton said. “I think they were stolen.”

Virgil saw himself opening a drawer and finding it bare, he felt the terror and loss, he felt his magic start to go haywire and malfunction...

“Patton,” Virgil started. “We need to find Roman.”

“He’s back at town,” Patton said. “I’m sorry, I can’t... I can’t go back there.”

“It’s okay, Patton, I’ll be there, I can protect you–”

“It’s not about protection!” Patton said, both loud and quiet, shoulders hunched. “I can’t... I can’t... they threw me in a church, and treated me like... like an item or something, something to be maintained and dealt with...” Patton took a deep breath, closing his eyes and inhaling slowly. “I’m not going back. I ran for a reason.”

“Okay,” Virgil conceded. “We won’t go back to town.”

Then what was their next move? Virgil didn’t know whether he should break off from Patton and find Roman himself, then find Patton after... but that sounded like too much in the hands of fate, and Virgil didn’t want to lose Patton just after they’d found each other...

“We could go to the hermit,” Patton said quietly. “He might know who stole them. And if not, I could stay with him while you find Roman... because I want to help, I just...”

“It’s okay, Patton,” Virgil said. “I understand. Don’t worry about it.”

Patton stared at nothing for a few long seconds. “What should we do?”

“I like your idea,” Virgil said, not mentioning his own lack of ideas. “We can go to this... hermit, and go from there.”

“Alright,” Patton said, taking a deep breath. He turned to Virgil with a grin, conflict alight in his eyes, and said, “Let’s go see Logan.”

Virgil froze.

His heart beating in his ears, Virgil turned his startled gaze towards Patton.

“ _ Logan?” _

_ — _

Damian rubbed his chin and frowned at the pain pulsating from his skin there. He certainly hadn’t expected that response from Patton. Perhaps he’d... miscalculated Patton’s change from interacting with Roman.

Patton was gone, either way. Which shouldn’t  _ really _ matter, in the long run, except that Damian wasn’t  _ stupid _ and he knew that the holders would be attracted to one another – like magnets, by some instinct or fate, Damian didn’t really care.

But he knew that once two met, they would find each other in a domino effect. Rapidly. Seeing as how Patton and Roman had hit it off instantly, despite Damian’s best efforts... only proved to show there were some forces Damian  _ couldn’t _ control.

Which, goddammit. Damian liked controlling things.

But again, it didn’t matter. Patton didn’t have his knife regardless, and Damian had three of four pieces.

But  _ where the hell was the final blade? _

Damian shook the map and growled, peering at the enchanted paper. The knife symbol flashed spastically all over the map, fluctuating and never staying in one place for more than a split second.

It didn’t make any damn  _ sense. _

He’d stolen the box from the  _ prince, _ for god’s sake, Damian was willing to go through just about anything for this. He taken a knife from under the nose of a knight (in training), he’d snatched a blade from Patton, possessive as he was. Damian knew he needed the last one for... something. Something.

He couldn’t find it.

And  _ damn _ if that didn’t irritate him.

But, it didn’t matter. He noticed the box only had two slots for keys, so he didn’t need the third knife, anyhow. Maybe the third knife was only a failsafe.

...He didn’t really believe that, but thinking it helped. Damian knew, better than anyone, that lying to yourself was easier than telling the truth.

Either way... he had to leave, before all four of them found each other. He had to go back to the tower, regardless of the final knife. Time was running out.

He had to save Thomas.


	5. Chapter 5

Logan threw the pack over his shoulder, an anger like nothing before shimmering beneath his skin.

Virgil thought he’d leave? Just like that? In the middle of the night, to “protect” Logan?

_ Fuck that. _

Logan narrowed his eyes. Virgil would be going to the town to stock up on more provisions. He’d seen the bare minimum Virgil had taken  _ (Logan’s heart softened as he imagined Virgil debating how much to take, knowing Virgil wouldn’t ever want to steal from Logan) _ and he knew that Virgil would only be able to make it to the town.

Therefore, Logan would get there at the same time.

Logan took one step outside his home and the trees shuddered. That anger sparked through his limbs and Logan moved towards the forest. He’d cared for the creatures, nurtured the trees.

They’d understand. They’d know.

Among magical creatures a sixth sense was present, the ability to sense the magical power contained in an individual. Logan knew he contained incredible magic power, just as the other holders did.

He decided, long ago, to never use it.

However.

His magic activated with emotion.

The magical creatures knew he contained power but didn’t use it, and therefore took it upon themselves to protect him – from what, Logan wasn’t sure, but apparently the forest had taken on a dangerous title.

But they were no match for Logan.

He strode through the forest, every step landing with significance. The trees bent and cracked before him, the rocks scuttled from his feet. Brush swept away as if their very being was ripped from the earth and flung to the side.

And Logan, hands clenched, eyes dark, expression flat, was the cause.

He knew his anger was fleeting. He knew in an hour, possibly even half an hour, he would be exponentially less furious.  _ Five stages of grief. _ And yet...

The taste of emotion on his tongue was too sweet to give up so quickly.

He saw a flock of crows take off, squawking their message to any who understood:  _ He’s here. He’s here. He’s awoken. Take cover. _

Logan didn’t want to think about how they knew, with deep instinct ingrained in their minds, that one day he would... snap.

_ Virgil _ , he thought, creatures shuddering as they fled.  _ You always did make decisions without consultation. Even when you thought it was for their own good. _

Logan clenched his fist, the air shimmering and twisting.  _ I suppose I should thank you, however. _

_ It’s not everyone who can get me out of hiding. _

—

Roman was cold.

Which, comparatively, should not be a shock, but Roman didn’t get... cold. Especially when he’d been eating and drinking correctly, and gotten a decent enough sleep – by all accounts and purposes, he  _ shouldn’t _ be cold.

Roman had a fire in his veins, constantly burning, a flame the seared through his skin and lit his eyes.

That fire, formerly steadfast and constant, was... flickering.

Shivering, Roman wrapped the jacket around his arms and soldiered on, following the pulsing power source ahead. His detection skills weren’t fantastic, but even he could tell when another strong mage was using their abilities.

“You’ll get your fire back,” Roman murmured to himself. “It’s not gone. Stop acting like a little chill is the end of the world.”

Just to prove his point to himself, he stuck a finger outside of the jacket and lit the tip yellow, a blinding light. Roman sighed in relief before the light flickered, swaying violently, before unceremoniously disappearing.

Ice cold fear shot down his spine and he shoved his hand under his arm, pretending nothing had happened. It was  _ fine.  _ He was  _ fine _ .

It’s not like it was  _ life  _ or  _ death. _

(Except for a mage... without his magic, his heart would–)

“Alright!” Roman clapped his hands together.

Shivering, Roman clambered over a fallen tree and froze. Cracking swept through the forest, echoing off the branches and reverberating through his body.

Roman ducked when a stick flew at his head. Wide-eyed, Roman jumped over a fern and ran straight towards the sound, hand straying towards the sword at his side.

Heart racing and muscles tense, Roman sprinted through the forest in bursts. He subconsciously muttered under his breath, broken syllables and half-formed phrases.

He exploded into a small clearing and only had a moment to process his surroundings before accidentally tackling someone to the ground.

He groaned.

Pushing himself upright, Roman gaped at the body beneath his, eyes wide and taking in every aspect of the man as quickly as possible. The man groaned, hand traveling to his head and clutching his temple.

Roman watched as he opened his eyes, bright gleaming blue eyes that seemed to stare straight through him. His hair looked feather light and was a gentle brown color, and Roman had the inexplicable urge to run his fingers through the man’s hair to see if it was as soft as it looked. Dozens and dozens of freckles were splattered across his face, and Roman could even see a smattering disappearing underneath his shirt.

Becoming rapidly hyper aware of every part of their bodies that was touching, Roman could feel heat start to prickle at his skin, and he had about three seconds to say, “Oh, Jesus Christ,” before the heat grew into flames and yup, Roman winced as his entire body burst into flames.

The man yelped in alarm. Scrambling away from Roman, he pushed the flaming man off of him and rolled away, rapidly searching his own body for fire.

“Ah, shit, I’m so sorry,” Roman said, shaking his arm in annoyance and in an effort to quench the flame. “That’s never happened before. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt you, it’s...”

Roman stared at his arm. Shining purple slowly-dying fire flickered across his sleeve.

“Purple...?” Roman muttered, drawing his hand closer to his face. “That’s a new one. It happened when I was...”

The meaning dawned on him and he coughed loudly, avoiding looking at the man. “Really?” he whisper-yelled at the leftover flames. “Purple? Why not red! Red is way more passionate.”

“I’m... uh, sorry, but I don’t know who you are,” the man said. His voice admittedly less shaky than Roman had expected, but it was shaky nonetheless.

“My name is Roman!” Roman declared, sticking his hand out. “My fire is completely harmless unless I want to hurt you. Sorry about the... immolation.”

“You’re fire is...” the man said, a slight rasp in his voice. “... purple.”

“That it is,” Roman said, concentrating and snuffing the last of the flames. “I’m Roman. You have some very powerful magic at your disposal.”

“I....” the man looked around as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. His face rapidly paled as he took in the destruction, and Roman followed his gaze to the scarred path blazing where the man had walked. “Oh, shit.”

“Oh shit indeed,” Roman said in amusement, pushing himself to his feet and brushing himself off. He held out a hand to help the man up. “I don’t think I got your name.”

“Logan,” he said, taking Roman’s hand.

Roman pulled Logan up, noting the soft skin and tight grip. He held on a little too long after Logan was back on his feet – but Roman couldn’t help it, Logan’s touch was addictive. It was magnetic but not quite electric, a grounding force that Roman didn’t want to leave.

Plus Logan was absolutely, one hundred percent Roman’s type. But. That was besides the point.

“Well, Logan, care to explain, uh... this?” Roman asked, sweeping his hands out at the destroyed line and avoiding Logan’s piercing gaze.  _ God _ , he wanted to stare into his eyes all day but Roman couldn’t keep getting distracted like this. First Anxiety, then  _ Patton _ , and now a man he’d just met by  _ literally _ running into him.

Why were men so  _ pretty  _ and  _ handsome– _

“I...” Logan rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I wanted to get to town as quickly as possible and got... a little too... enthusiastic.”

Roman glanced at him and Logan blushed, turning away and pursing his lips.

“Something important in town?” Roman asked, mindlessly rubbing his fingers together in thought.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Logan said wryly, his face shifting into a certain expression that Roman couldn’t name. “A man. Virgil.”

“Virgil,” Roman repeated. He gazed at the treetops. “Sorry, I don’t know a Virgil.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” Logan said. He hummed. “He’s a rather secluded man.”

Roman snorted. “I think I know what you mean.”

“Yeah?” Logan said, eyes shifting back to Roman. “How so?”

“I met a man in the woods a week or so ago,” Roman recounted, grimacing in memory. “He called himself Anxiety. Afraid of revealing his identity, or something of the sort. He...” the statement died on his tongue, Roman swallowing the extra comment. Logan didn’t need to know Roman had met a prince.

“Perhaps he had good reason to,” Logan said, peering at Roman for a few long moments. “Where is he now?”

“Not sure, we were separated,” Roman said, shrugging. He tried to seem careless but wasn’t quite sure if it translated well.

“Unfortunate,” Logan said.

Their gazes locked again for a few long moments before they both looked away, Logan rubbing at his arm and Roman clearing his throat.

“I’m, uh, looking for my friend, Patton,” Roman said, just to diffuse the silence. “Uh...”

“Patton?” Logan said, a foreign weight to his words. He returned his gaze to Roman’s but with a new intent, a steely glint to them. “What happened to Patton?”

“He disappeared,” Roman said, the word feeling distasteful in his mouth. “I talked to him all through the night. I had to take care of my things, I was going to move them to stay in the church while I recovered, but when I returned he was gone.”

“You’re saying he just... up and left?” Logan said slowly.

Roman shrugged. “He’s not one to abandon people.”

“No, he’s not,” Logan mused.

“You know him?” Roman said, a new interest in his eyes.

“I... he was always hospitable to me when I went to town for supplies,” Logan said evasively, ears turning pink.

Roman stifled a smirk. “You aren’t harboring any feelings for him, are you, specs?”

Logan sputtered. “There are so many things to address in that statement I don’t know where to begin.”

“Maybe by admitting that you think he’s cute,” Roman said, his smirk growing.

“He’s  _ not– _ ” Logan cut himself off abruptly, crossing his arms. His ears were pink. “While he may be, as you put it,  _ cute _ , that does not prove your earlier claim.”

“Well I for one think he’s cute,” Roman said loudly, sticking his chin out proudly.

“What?” Logan said, blinking.

“I think he’s  _ adorable _ ,” Roman said, gesturing with one hand. “I mean, his voice is so soothing, and when he gets all flustered his face turns the cutest shade of pink, and he has these cute little freckles if you look close enough.”

Logan touched his nose and cheek, eyes wide.

“A-and, he’s so  _ interesting _ ,” Roman said, pretending that he hadn’t just admitted to liking freckles. Freckles that seemed to dot everywhere on Logan’s skin. “And talented, and he’s so powerful and compassionate! Good thing he has healing as a power.”

“Of course, well,” Logan said, straightening his cloak. “He is an incredibly powerful individual.”

“He healed my broken bones in less than half a day!” Roman added.

“Healing isn’t the only... ah, well,” Logan sighed, closing his eyes for a few brief moments. “He is remarkable.”

“And his glasses are so  _ cute _ ,” Roman continued. He peered at Logan. “Now that I think about it, your glasses look the same.”

Logan stared at him. Roman stared back. When Logan’s cheeks started turning steadily more red Roman clued into what he’d so happily exclaimed and tensed in embarrassment.

“You’re, ah...” Logan touched his glasses and glanced at the ground before looking back at him. “You’re on fire again.”

“Ack!” Roman yelped and patted down his arms, scrunching his nose in an effort to stop the flames. “They’re never this unruly!”

“Losing control?” Logan said, voice snapping into something much more serious. “Do you have other flames?”

“Of course,” Roman said, trying to discreetly find out if his hair was (still) on fire. “I have a rainbow of colors for all different uses.”

“And magic is commonly linked to emotions, meaning that loss of control of emotions relates to loss of control of fire, but you have unusual aptitude when it comes to magic... meaning you probably have a link somewhere, to help control. But if you’re still losing control then you’ve... lost the link?” Logan said in a rush, hands fiddling with something. He glanced at Roman for confirmation.

“Uh.” Roman blinked. “What the hell.”

“I... sorry, I get carried away,” Logan said, wincing.

“No no, that was impressive, but how did you... you’re...” Roman’s eyes widened. “You’re another holder, aren’t you? There’s no other way you have so much power! Christ, you and Patton, now we just need to find the last–”

“Patton?” Logan repeated. He looked winded. “Holder?”

“You know,” Roman said, gesturing helplessly. “of a blade? The three knives, the prophecy?”

Logan stared at him and Roman felt a flash of panic streak through him.

“Like,  _ one for health and two for strength? _ ” Roman said. The smallest bit of hysteria started creeping into his voice. “ _ Three for aid  _ and–”

“ _ Four for when there’s nothing left to do, _ ” Logan said, then looked startled, as if he’d never intended to speak in the first place. “How... how do I know that?”

“I knew it,” Roman said breathlessly. “You’re a holder. Yes. Okay.”

“Holder of  _ what, _ exactly?” Logan demanded, taking a step towards Roman. The ground shook.

“A knife, or a box,” Roman said, forcing himself not to move. “Since yours is last it’s probably the box.”

“I don’t have a box or a knife,” Logan said forcefully. He raised a hand and pressed it against his skull, growling quietly.

Roman took a step forward. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Logan said, the trees shuddering around them. He took a deep breath, dropping his hands by his side. “You were looking for Patton, you said?”

“Yeah,” Roman replied, reluctantly dropping the topic. “I thought he might be near you, since you were letting off such a strong magical signal.”

“Signal,” Logan repeated flatly.

“Well, when you use magic so rampantly, other mages can usually tell,” Roman explained, staring at the sky. “Stronger mages can pinpoint the location, while weaker ones just know it’s happening nearby.”

“Which makes you a stronger mage?” Logan said.

“Absolutely,” Roman said, lips quirking into a smile. “And that makes you a strong mage too.”

“A strong...” Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “I... don’t use this part of my magic. Ever.”

Roman shrugged, unsure how to respond. “Well, you did. And I found you.”

“That you did,” Logan said, hand raising to rub at his arm. “Er, you said I was a holder, and that you and Patton are also holders?”

“That’s right,” Roman said, nodding.

“And you also said that exceptionally magical people are drawn to each other instinctively?” Logan added, gears turning behind his eyes.

“I... didn’t say that exactly, but that’s true,” Roman said.

“Then I have reason to believe that Virgil is another holder,” Logan finalized, expression hardening. “Which gives me all the more reason to find him.”

Roman watched Logan, a smile steadily growing. “If you’re right about Virgil, then we have all four of us! Which would jump start the next part of the original plot, which is... uh...” Roman trailed off, biting his lip. “Vanquishing darkness?”

Logan looked at him carefully, raising one eyebrow. “Vanquishing darkness? Doesn’t that seem a little vague?”

“Well, it’s not like every story is the same,” Roman defended frantically. “They have the same general plot, but the darkness could be anything from a corrupt king to a demon to sickness.”

“I had a normal life,” Logan muttered, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “And then Virgil just had to run face first into my house and jump start this legacy I don’t want. Ugh. He’d always been the reckless one.”

Roman didn’t think he was supposed to hear nor respond to Logan’s murmurs and instead did an about-face, peering into the forest. “We should stick together, anyway.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Logan said. “We cannot rely on this ‘destiny’ or ‘fate’ to bring us together on yet another occasion.”

“Are you implying that you, Logan, are my destiny? My fate? Because if so, I wouldn't be opposed,” Roman said, tilting his head just slightly and smirking.

Logan blinked at him, eyes wide behind his glasses. His hands fluttered around his front, as if searching for something, before falling intentionally at his sides.

Roman waited a few more seconds for a response and, when none was forthcoming, sighed, straightening his spine. “Alright Red Riding Hood, is your Virgil in town, then?”

“Red Riding... my hood is black,” Logan said, grasping the edge of his cloak. “I mean, cloak. He’s not... mine, either, only a close, ah... friend.”

Roman’s smirk faltered. Logan’s gaze was locked on the ground and Roman could see brushes of pink on his cheeks.

He already had a sweetheart. Roman was just kidding himself – even if Logan and “Virgil” weren’t already together, then Logan was pining hard enough that Roman wouldn’t have a chance.

“Leave it to you to misunderstand fairytale references,” Roman said, clapping him on the shoulder. “But you didn’t answer my question?”

“Oh!” Logan said, glancing back at Roman. Roman lost his breath just looking into those eyes, clear blue and green, like a crystal pool. Anxiety’s eyes were a deep brown, easy to get lost in, and Patton’s were a twinkling hazel, constantly changing, but Logan’s... were a gemstone, flecks like imperfections in a jewel, crystalline. “He’s most likely in town, yes.”

Roman forced himself to look away once he realized he was staring, feeling the heat start to creep up his neck. “Good! Grand. Let us embark onward to...” Roman cleared his throat. “Let’s go to town.”

Logan’s lips quirked ever-so-slightly and Roman decidedly did  _ not _ look at him. “Onward to town it is, then.”

Roman glanced at where Logan had come from. “Uh, maybe with a little less destruction?”

Logan’s face turned bright red. He glanced between where he was going and where he’d been, groaning quietly. “That would be smart, yes.”

“Alrighty then,” Roman said. “Let’s go!” He started marching towards town.

“This way,” Logan said, reaching out and touching his shoulder, pointing two dozen or so degrees to Roman’s left. “You’ll get lost if you go that way.”

Roman sighed heavily and ignored Logan’s quiet snickers. Shifting his direction he continued on. “Let’s go, earthquake. Quicker we walk quicker we get to your Virgil.”

“I’m  _ not– _ ” Logan made a few flustered noises, jogging to reach Roman’s side. “He’s not mine and I’m not an earthquake, where did you ever get that nick–”

Roman pushed one thumb towards the scar in the earth, trees and entire boulders displaced and thrown.

Logan winced, touching his glasses. “Okay,” he muttered. “A tornado would be a more apt comparison, anyway.”

“Alright, then, tornado,” Roman said, nudging him.

A huff of exasperation flew from Logan’s lips. “Human torch.”

“Mudslide.”

“Fire hazard.”

“Teach.”

“Teach?” Logan repeated, voice cracking halfway through the word.

“Because you sound like a teacher,” Roman explained. “And you have the... the glasses...”

“I have glasses so I must be a teacher, is that it?” Logan said flatly.

“Exactly!” Roman said, grinning widely.

“Patton has glasses,” Logan commented. He adjusted his own frames.

“He – ah... but you have the whole vibe.” Roman gestured to Logan’s body has he said this. “It’s an understood thing.”

“Of course,” Logan said, rolling his eyes. “How could I ever question it.”

“Dunno, teach,” Roman said, barely stifling his snickers. “I feel like at any moment you’re going to rap my knuckles with a ruler.”

“Don’t test me,” Logan said, a smile fighting its way onto his face.

Roman looked down the path, biting his lip and grinning.

Maybe this walk wouldn’t be so bad after all.

—

Once Virgil got him talking, he realized that Patton wasn’t a bad guy in any way shape or form.

He was still apprehensive about seeing Logan again, however. He’d up and left in the middle of the night, with no precursor whatsoever. Logan was sure to be pissed beyond all reason.

Virgil knew he’d left for Logan’s well-being, because Virgil was  _ dangerous _ , too dangerous to be around people. But at the moment, Patton was his ticket to retrieving his knife, and in turn he’d retrieve his lost control. Then he would be able to return to Logan safely, but...

Instead, they were going to Logan to find out where their knives might be, and Virgil was finding this situation to be a lot more complicated than it should be.

He didn’t want Logan to hate him. He really, really didn’t want Logan to hate him. Logan’s hatred would cut deep and might break him, his childhood friend...

No, more than that. Logan... Virgil clenched his hand subconsciously, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in his chest. Logan had become so much more than an old childhood friend in the time they’d been together. Virgil hoped he wasn’t reading into their situation too much but he felt... as if there was something there, a charge in the air when they were near each other.

“Hey, I never asked your name,” Patton said, glancing back at him. “I’ve been rattling on and on about god knows what and I haven’t given you a chance to speak!”

“I don’t like talking,” Virgil muttered, passing suddenly stationary Patton.

“Wait,” Patton said, reaching out and grasping the edge of his sleeve.

Virgil looked back at him out of the corner of his eye. “What?”

“You’re...” Patton drew back his hand and cradled it against his chest, eyes downcast. “...halfway heartbroken. But very much in love. But... you’re hurting.”

Virgil widened his eyes, mouth dry.

Patton shuffled his feet. “I could... I could take away some of the hurt for you.”

Virgil stared at him wordlessly, a mixture of panic and concern filling his body.

“It’s just... you’re walking with me and it’s weighing so heavily on you...” Patton said, shoulders slumping as he spoke.

Virgil narrowed his eyes at him. “Where does the feeling go?”

Patton winced. “It... uh. It just...”

“It stays with you, doesn’t it?” Virgil said flatly. Patton’s lack of answer was answer enough and he scoffed. “What, you think I’m just going to hand over this... mess? My mess? Jesus, Patton, no.”

“I’m used to it, though,” Patton said feebly.

“Does it ever go away?” Virgil asked. When Patton shrank back he widened his eyes. “That was supposed to be a rhetorical question. Does it really stick with you?”

“It kindof... shrinks after time...” Patton said quietly, hands fiddling with each other.

“How do you get rid of it?” Virgil said, incredulous.

“Roman said a moodstone would absorb my excess emotions,” Patton said, spreading his hands in the shape of a rock.

“A moodstone, eh?” Virgil muttered, eyes flickering around the forest floor. “Patton, find the biggest rock you can.”

“U-uh, okay, but it’s not just any rock,” Patton said, eyes searching the ground.

“I know,” Virgil said.

Eventually Patton held up a stone the size of his fist. Reaching out, Virgil grasped the stone between his gloved and bare hand, concentrating. Sometimes, if he focused enough energy, he could get his powers to do what he wanted.

Although with everything going haywire recently... he was holding onto hope.

The stone glimmered beneath his palm, turning gray to translucent white.

“Oh my god,” Virgil said, holding the stone up before his eyes. “Holy shit. I did it.”

Patton’s eyes widened. “You... did you just...”

“Make a moodstone? Hell yeah I did!” Virgil whooped, a grin breaking across his face. “Take that, you stupid powers!”

“You made a moodstone,” Patton said. “Oh my god! You made a moodstone!”

“It finally  _ worked _ ,” Virgil said, unable to stop himself from smiling. “God, is this what success feels like?”

“Can I...” Patton reached out but hesitated, fingers curling back.

“Here, man,” Virgil handed him the stone, the victory still buzzing through his veins. “Knock yourself out.”

“Oh-hh, thank you,” Patton said. He held the stone carefully, as if he were holding pure gold.

Virgil shrugged. “I guess you just concentrate on the emotions and–”

The stone whirled in color, every shade mixing to quickly turn it black and opaque. Virgil opened his mouth to say something, anything, eyes wide in shock, when the stone cracked.

“Holy shit,” Virgil said. He didn’t want to touch the stone and risk feeling some of the emotions Patton had absorbed over the years. “You broke it.”

“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” Patton held the stone gingerly now, fear in his gaze. “I didn’t mean to!”

“Well, moodstones are mostly one use anyway,” Virgil said. “Don’t worry about it, Patton. I made it for you, you can do whatever you want with it. But, you pushed so much into it the thing just... broke. Jesus.”

“I just opened up a little bit,” Patton murmured, gaze locked on the cracked black stone. “I didn’t think it would break.”

Virgil choked. “How much pent up feelings do you  _ have _ ?”

Patton considered the question, smiling sheepishly at Virgil. “Uh... a lot?”

Virgil blinked at him, feeling an overwhelming urge to swaddle him up in blankets and provide him warm soup and a companion.

“Lemme try that again,” Virgil said. He picked up the nearest rock he saw, a pebble really, the size of a walnut, and concentrated. The stone vaporized between his fingers and he clenched his hand into a fist, staring at the ground.

Patton smiled at him. “Don’t worry about it, Virgil. The moodstone you made helped a lot already. It... was really refreshing.”

“It’s not enough,” Virgil said, grimacing at the ground. “You’re hurting because of other people and I have the power to do something about it, but I just... can’t.”

“You tried, and that’s what matters,” Patton said kindly, reaching out to pat Virgil on the shoulder but stopping a hands-breadth away. “It’s more than many have done for me.”

“Which is stupid,” Virgil said bluntly, shocking even himself with his words. “Nobody deserves... you seem like a cool guy, Pat, and I don’t know what you’ve done in your life but it sounds like all you’ve done is... heal people.”

“That’s about it,” Patton said cheerfully.

Virgil winced. “So you just... heal people? For no charge? And suffer because of it?”

“Just about,” Patton said. “I don’t really suffer for it, though. It’s just a little tough to hang on.”

“To hang on to what?” Virgil asked, eyes wide.

“When, uh...” Patton winced. “It only happens at night, don’t worry.”

“Patton, it’ll get dark in about two hours,” Virgil said. “We won’t make it to Logan’s for half a day, if we walk straight there.”

“It’ll be fine,” Patton said, avoiding Virgil’s gaze. “I’ll... be able to control myself. I promise.”

Virgil pursed his lips but said nothing. What could he say? Ask what Patton meant, yet again? He wanted to trust Patton, he really did, but Patton spoke in riddles and Virgil had no idea if he should let his guard down or not. He claimed to know Logan, which helped, but...

Would Patton open up if Virgil talked about himself...? Virgil hated talking about himself, but... he needed more information. Something.

They started walking again, Patton hesitantly and Virgil with constant glances back at Patton.

“How do you know Logan?” Virgil asked.

“He comes to our town to gather supplies every other week,” Patton said. “I’d talk with him for an hour or so before he had to leave, since it’s almost a full day’s walk and he would... would never stay the night. He always made sure to say hi to me. The townspeople could never figure out why...”

“Why did he?” Virgil asked, despite having an inkling to the answer.

Patton shrugged. “I’m not positive. Logan does a lot of things for strange reasons. He seemed to enjoy my company, thought, and loved the handkerchief I embroidered for him. Well, I mean.” Patton giggled, a bubbling, happy noise that filled Virgil’s heart. “He blushed a lot and said it was satisfactory, which basically means he loved it.”

Virgil snorted. “Sounds like him.”

“Oh, do you know him?” Patton asked. “I mean, when I said his name earlier you seemed like you knew him, but I didn’t want to push it because people don’t usually like talking about their pasts.”

“I... yeah, I know him,” Virgil said, smiling softly. “He was my best friend when we were kids. We... lost contact for a while, but recently I found him again and we... I lived with him for a few days. It was really... really nice.”

“Why did you leave?” Patton asked.

Virgil winced. Patton’s question was innocent and completely understandable, but it still hurt to remember that yes, he did leave Logan during the early hours of the morning, extracting himself from Logan’s arms (okay, so Virgil slept better with someone else in the room, and maybe Logan’s room was just big enough for a bed and a dresser, so there was no other option than sleeping in the bed with Logan).

And... and yes, he did leave with just a note, and he also stole some of Logan’s food and supplies to make it to town – but just enough to make it to town, nothing more, and possibly less.

“I... couldn’t hurt him,” Virgil said quietly. Patton made a soft noise and Virgil continued. “My powers... without the blade, they’re going haywire, and I can’t... I never could control my powers, but they were activating without my consent, and everything was crumbling around me. I couldn’t hurt him. So I left.”

“Oh,” Patton said quietly. “I understand. But... did you tell him?”

Virgil inhaled sharply. Patton was asking all the wrong questions, driving the knife deeper and deeper into Virgil’s chest. “I left him a note.”

Silence stretched between them, only broken by their footfalls and breathing.

“I... he might be really mad at me, so just be prepared... he’ll let you stay but he probably won’t let me even near his house,” Virgil said weakly, pointedly avoiding Patton’s gaze. “He might even sic Charlie on me, who knows.” Virgil laughed sardonically.

“He... he might have gotten really mad initially, but I don’t think he’ll stay mad at you,” Patton said. “When did you leave?”

“Uh...” Virgil twisted his lips. “Like... a day ago?”

He could feel Patton’s stare on the back of his neck, burning hot. Virgil refused to turn around and look.

Patton sighed. “Virgil, he’s... you might think he’s the most stable person in the lands, but he’s really sensitive. And he’s also really powerful. Can you imagine if someone you loved just up and left you, with just a note? Wouldn’t your powers just... explode?”

“Well, yeah, probably,” Virgil said. “But I don’t think giving objects galactic print is a strong power. A bit above average, sure, but not on the same level as you and me.”

“Oh,  _ Virgil _ ,” Patton said, voice so inflicted with a dozen different emotions that Virgil turned around before his brain could catch up with his actions. Patton’s eyes were wide and his mouth was open. “That wasn’t his power.”

“What?” Virgil said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“He... well, he himself never really... he didn’t... doesn’t... ugh,” Patton shook his head, collecting himself. “He refuses to use his power and I don’t think he knows, either, but his magic has greater depth than you think.”

“But... I couldn’t feel anything,” Virgil said, confusion coloring his tone.

“Well, you were in the heart of the Perilous forest, obviously you couldn’t,” Patton said, sounding anything but placating. “There’s abundant magical signatures throughout this entire forest, mainly because of the many magical creatures that find their home here. I’ve been to his house only once, but it’s surrounded by protective creatures and spells they’ve placed on it and – well, you wouldn’t be able to tell, with such high concentration of magic.”

“So you’re saying that... he’s surrounded by magic so much that I couldn’t recognize his power?” Virgil repeated.

“Pretty much!” Patton said. “If we get him away from his house then you’ll see – or, I guess, you’ll feel!”

“I... guess,” Virgil said, pulling his gaze away from Patton and continuing forward. “We have to get there first. We’ll make camp at nightfall and continue at dawn.”

“Of course, of course,” Patton said, clambering after him. “I haven’t seen him for a while, his supply run is usually in a few days, I can’t wait to say hi!”

“Yeah...” Virgil muttered. Apprehension coursed through his veins, a steady constant.

“Hey, listen...” Patton said softly after a minute or so of silence. “I know we got off on the wrong foot, but... I hope we can become friends. You seem really nice, and Roman loves you, and you know Logan, so I know you’re trustworthy.”

Virgil choked on his own spit. “Roman  _ what? _ ”

Patton paused. “Well, the way he talked about you, he certainly feels something. I don’t know. He never said love explicitly...”

“Oh, oh,” Virgil said, pressing a hand against his chest. “Give a man a heart attack, why don’t ya.”

“Sorry,” Patton said, voice sounding more teasing than apologetic. “I didn’t think you’d be so affected. It’s almost like... you want him to love you.”

Virgil stopped breathing for a few long seconds. “Uh... nope. Not that melodramatic fool. Who do you take me for? I have standards, you know.”

“Mmhmm,” Patton said, sounding like he didn’t believe him in the slightest.

Virgil rolled his eyes, ignoring his pounding heart. “If you think I... what, like him? Have a crush on him? Then I’d say the same to you. You were basically singing his praises earlier.”

“Oh!” Patton said. Virgil grinned in victory at the flustered tint in Patton’s voice. “I, uh... well, Roman wouldn’t be the worst man to love, and he’s super kind... I didn’t really think about it. Uh. But. I guess... yeah, sure, I probably have a... what did you say, ‘crush’?”

“You... really have your feelings sorted out, don’t you,” Virgil said, a mixture of deadpan and surprised.

“You’d think I’d get a little mixed up with so many swirling around up here, but nope!” Patton said cheerfully. “I’ve always been able to organize my emotions. It makes life a lot easier, and I can... usually separate them from other people’s that way.”

“Damn,” Virgil said quietly, knowing he wouldn’t be able to tease Patton in the romantic sense at any point.

“What?”

“I said, wow,” Virgil said flatly.

Patton giggled again and Virgil felt his spirits lifting at the mere sound. Shit, Patton was... adorable.

Good thing Virgil was in front of him, otherwise Patton might catch sight of Virgil’s pink cheeks.

“Romance isn’t really my forte, though,” Patton said after a bit, voice gentle. “I’ve never fallen in love before, so I’m flying blind.”

“I’ve...” Virgil twisted his expression. “Me neither.”

“What–”

“Stop,” Virgil said shortly, a grin and yellow glowing eyes flashing in his mind.

Patton quieted. They moved in silence.

“Hey, Virgil...” Patton said.

“What is it?” Virgil asked.

“I’m.... glad I met you,” Patton said. Virgil glanced back to see a soft smile on Patton’s face.

Virgil bit his lip, staring steadily forward. “Me... too. Me too.”

They both smiled to themselves, absorbing the comforting silence.


	6. Chapter 6

Damian swore under his breath, fumbling with the blade. The box and other knife were already at the tower, but Patton’s knife was still on his person.

It was risky and not preferable. If he had his way, he’d have all three knives and the box safe at the tower with Thomas. Well... Thomas’s body.

A small growl started in his throat at the mere thought of Thomas. His brother, his baby brother, his closest friend, the one who Damian threw away his entire life for... his only surviving family, the only one who still  _ cared _ about Damian.

His last hope.

Stuck in some sort of... coma, perhaps. It didn’t really matter  _ why _ he wasn’t waking up. Only that he  _ wasn’t _ waking up. He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t... alive. He was surviving. Surviving off of stolen healing orbs, because otherwise... Thomas would die of dehydration. Or hunger. Or some sickness that would rack his entire body until it deteriorated from exhaustion –

Damian didn’t like to think about it.

But he needed to get to the tower. Before he could do that, however, he needed to steal two more healing orbs. Patton kept them for when his outbursts maintained through the day and someone needed healing, just in case.

Damian thought it was foolish, personally, but they also kept Thomas living – after all, Patton always restocked once he saw they were disappearing.

So Damian wasn’t stealing them, he was utilizing Patton’s goodwill, which left a bad taste in his mouth, so he told himself he was stealing them. Stealing them from under Patton’s nose. Yeah, that sounded about right.

Damian swept through the town, cape flowing dramatically as he power walked the streets. Of course the church had to be on an opposite corner of town than his exit. Completely convenient. He should have gotten Patton thrown in the old inn or something. Much closer.

Two beings of large magical power entered the town, and Damian froze. Their magic leaked through the cobbled streets, tendrils of strength that brushed against Damian’s legs. Instinctual fear rushed through his body, goosebumps spreading across his skin.

Damian shook himself.  _ You’re not afraid. You have this under control. _

He was fine.  _ Fine. _

In fact – Damian felt his lips stretch into a grin – he would  _ intentionally _ approach them. Which would consequently prove his control. The immense control he  _ did  _ have over the situation.

He changed his direction only slightly, smirk remaining on his expression. Townspeople scattered when he stepped by, fear igniting in their eyes.

He would have laughed if he cared enough. His reputation really did precede him, he was almost flattered.

He caught sight of them almost immediately, lips curling into a snarl. Roman had one arm raised dramatically, most likely recounting some event, eyebrows waggling as he watched Logan for a reaction. Logan rolled his eyes and pushed him over, obviously fighting the smile from crossing his face.

_ Disgusting. _ Damian felt almost sick. They looked almost like...  _ lovers _ . Eugh.

Now he  _ really _ needed to break them up, ruin whatever harmony they had. Because he knew that Logan knowing Patton was bad, and Roman knowing Patton was bad, but Roman knowing  _ Logan _ and vice versa was almost... explosive. Patton, he had under his control, or at least elicited some form of fear from, but neither Logan nor Roman had the same fear underneath their skin.

Logan was too independent and too cynical. Plus his glasses messed  _ everything  _ up. God, Damian wanted to snap those stupid lenses every time he saw them.

Roman, on the other hand... he was all over the place, and had a rock solid instinct. Unfortunately (and even Damian knew this) Damian wasn’t a good person, which Roman could tell within moments – somehow. This also infuriated Damian, but at least Roman didn’t have glasses  _ too _ .

(Patton’s glasses were a much lesser prescription, and he barely needed to use his eyes to control Patton anymore anyway, so that was a moot point.)

Roman steadied himself and gave Logan an indignant look, Logan covering his mouth with his hand.

Damian felt like he was going to throw up.

Hand clenching into a fist, Damian strode towards them, glare slowly softening into a fake welcoming expression.

Despite his soft, approachable exterior, Damian was seething.

He  _ was _ going to fuck them up, if it was the last thing he did.

—

Roman froze, holding an arm out to stop Logan in his tracks. 

“Hey, what’s–” Logan cut himself off, eye widening in shock then narrowing in anger. “Damian.”

Roman’s gaze slid to Logan. “You know him?”

“Of course I know him!” Logan said, throwing his arms out. “He’s the bitch who fucked with Patton all the time!”

“Woah there, language,” Damian said, smile slowly shifting into a smirk. “Would Patton like those nasty words coming out of your mouth?”

“Die mad about it,” Logan spat at him.

Roman stared at him, impressed and a little in love.

“It’s almost like you two didn’t want to see me,” Damian said, voice flat and sarcastic.

“Why would I  _ ever _ want to see your slimy-ass face–” Logan said, taking a step forward only to run into Roman’s arm again.

He glared at Roman, whose eyes were trained on Damian. “What do you want?”

“Me? I want only for you to feel welcome to our little town,” Damian said, shrugging.

“Bullshit.” Roman leveled his gaze. “Get out of our way.”

“Now, I don’t like that tone, young man,” Damian said, grin widening. He took a few steps forward.

Logan stiffened. “Wait, Roman–”

“It’s almost like you have  _ something against me _ ,” Damian said, eyes flashing a brilliant yellow color.

Roman froze. Damian’s eyes were trained on him, their gazes locked.

“Roman–” Logan tried again.

Roman’s eyes glazed over.

Damian grinned. “ _ Wow, Roman, I thought you would be better at identifying the adversary here.” _

Logan took a step back, fear in his gaze. “No... no no no...”

“ _ When the real villain...” _ Damian laughed, eyes blown wide and glowing a brilliant gold. “ _ Was right beside you the entire time.” _

Roman’s head turned slowly, meaningfully, towards Logan. His expression was blank, but his eyebrows were twitching, like somewhere underneath... Roman was trying to think. Trying to realize what was happening.

“Roman, he’s controlling you,” Logan said, voice trembling. “You can get out, you just have to concentrate–”

“ _ You always knew the villain was all talk,” _ Damian said, voice slithering like a snake. “ _ It’s time to take matters into your own hands. Finally, you can be in control of your own destiny.” _

“ _ My own destiny, _ ” Roman murmured, eyes trained on Logan.

“Roman, no–” Logan pleaded, hands outstretched. “You can get out–”

_ “He’s the embodiment of all your failures,”  _ Damian said, voice raising over Logan’s. “ _ He’s why you lost your precious Anxiety, he’s why Patton is locked in a church. He’s the knights in training who ignored and ridiculed you, he’s the knights who looked down on you because of a reputation you never deserved. He’s the fact that your parents are gone, turned to dust in the ground. No, not he.” _

Damian grinned, a snake tongue forking between sharp teeth.  _ “It. After all, it can’t be human if it embodies every failure in your life, Roman.” _

Roman’s eyes flashed yellow. His body tensed, his face twisted into a snarl.

Logan backed up, expression breaking. “Roman–”

“ _ SHUT UP!”  _ Roman roared, arms igniting in scarlet flames. The fire spread to the rest of his body, flickers of hellfire in his irises. “ _ You don’t know the HELL you’ve put me through!” _

“That wasn’t me!” Logan yelled. “I’m Logan! We met less than a day ago! I don’t have the power to change your–” He cut off with a yelp, dodging Roman’s swinging arm.

Logan clenched his arms to his body, shaking. The fire wasn’t normal fire, the utter absence of orange and yellow indicated as such. Logan had never before seen such raging flames, solid red and shadowed.

Roman’s eyes flashed and he screamed, the fire exploding into an inferno with Roman at the center.

Damian laughed, backing away, lips curled into a grin.

“ _ I HATE you!” _ Roman said, voice booming. Arm outstretched, a tunnel of fire shot at Logan, who managed to duck out of the way just in time.

“Roman, you’re not thinking!” Logan shouted, clothing singed. “You’re endangering the townspeople!”

“ _ I’m tired of YOU telling me what to do!”  _ Roman yelled, voice scratched. “ _ It’s over!” _

_ “Now, Roman!”  _ Damian’s voice appealed over the uproar, light and airy.  _ “You don’t want to destroy it in one fell sweep! Where’s the satisfaction in that?” _

Roman’s flames dimmed, but his eyes were dark as ever.

Logan blanched.

Roman moved quicker than he thought possible, fueled by years of pent up rage and fire on his heels. His arm slammed into Logan, who moved just enough to save his neck but not enough to save his shoulders, Roman improvising and grabbing onto Logan’s forearm.

Logan screamed.

Roman held tighter, leaning in close to Logan, his body ignited into red and white fire, searing through Logan’s skin.

A loud sob tore from Logan’s throat, inaudible babbles falling from his lips. Pitch increasing, Logan shoved at Roman’s arms and shoulders, flames licking against his fists.

Logan wailed, an ear-piercing shriek that echoed through the town. Dozens of heads looked to the sky, fear coloring their gazes.

Logan’s voice tore through the trees, a crescendo that caused dozens of creatures to startle.

Somewhere far away, Patton and Virgil heard the vague anguished scream. They looked at the sky, confusion in their motions, and glanced at each other.

Logan felt a horrible pain rip through his body, and then Roman vanished.

Logan froze, muted and horrified. His hands and arms were numb, chest burning with pain. He knew the numbness was caused from damaged nerve endings, which was never a good sign, but his mind could barely come to that conclusion.

Roman was...  _ gone _ . He just disappeared. One moment he was in front of Logan, blistering Logan’s skin, and the next he... he... wasn’t. It was like a vacuum had opened where Roman was, only affecting him.

Logan started shaking, eyes blown wide and staring at the ground, which was burnt in a star-shape pattern.

Where did he go.

Where did he go?

Logan lifted a shaking finger to his throat but couldn’t feel the scarred flesh with his nerveless skin. He opened his mouth, a croaking noise brushing passed his chapped lips.

_ Where was Roman? _

Logan sobbed, falling onto his knees.

He felt the ground shaking beneath him, a low vibration shuddering through his body, the numbness of his arms periodically broken by spikes of shooting pain.

“Roman,” Logan groaned, clutching at his chest. He cried, a low moan starting deep in his throat. Roman, who’d stopped his fury fueled destruction of the forest. Roman, who’d combusted into purple flames whenever Logan... managed to fluster him. Roman, who’d joked with him the whole way back, making him feel appreciated again, similar to Virgil but in a loud way Virgil never was.

Roman, who’d just attacked him with hellfire (because Logan was positive that was what that red fire was) because of Damian’s control. Roman, who’d disappeared before his eyes after...

Logan’s eyes dropped to his arms and he felt bile rise in his throat. The skin was blistering and red, blackened in some places. He could still move his hands and fingers, but it was slow going and painful. Splashes of salt water tears dropped onto his melted skin and Logan closed his eyes, unwilling to see, unwilling to look.

He strained to hear something, someone, anyone. Someone had to be running towards him, right? Didn’t anyone want to help him? He was a common face in the town, relatively, comparatively, and he never did anything to harm them.

A few excruciating minutes passed. Logan regulated his breathing, focusing only on sounds. Wind blew through the trees at the edge of town, rocks skittered across cobblestone.

Nobody came. Nobody neared Logan, who’s shaking started distracting him from the noises. Nobody came for him.

Logan was left, trembling and shaking, eyes squeezed shut with tears leaking through, alone on the street.

—

“The way he was acting, it was like I’d killed his mother,” Virgil joked, holding a branch out of the way for Patton.

“Oh my gosh,” Patton said, laughing. “You’re quite the rebel child!”

“I’ve had my fair share of groundings,” Virgil said. “Never could conform to the princely ideals.”

“Who needs old traditions?” Patton said, waving his hand. “As long as you have the important aspects of a king, you’ll be fine.”

“That’s the thing,” Virgil said, pursing his lips. “I don’t have the important aspects of a king. I’m irritable, anxious, and cynical.”

“But you’re also open-minded, cautious, selfless, and strong,” Patton countered.

Virgil scoffed despite the blush creeping over his features. “You met me a few hours ago, how could you come to those conclusions?”

“Well, you’re open-minded because you still... love Logan, despite social um... norms,” Patton said quietly, then brightened as he continued. “You’re cautious because you didn’t trust me right away, you’re selfless because you left Logan in order to protect him even though you really really didn’t want to, and you’re strong because you’ve been through so much in your life–”

“What?” Virgil said sharply, feeling bad when Patton winced at his harsh tone.

“It’s not... I didn’t... I can’t read memories, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Patton said, raising his hands. “When people have difficult lives, there’s a certain... tint to their aura. You have the tint, so... you probably had a difficult life, or a certain period was particularly dark but you made it. You’re here and you have some... er, I guess scars, but you made it. Which means you’re strong.”

Virgil stared at him, eyes wide and forearms pulsing. Patton was...

He was...

“I know it’s kinda weird,” Patton said. “My powers are kinda... strange.”

“They’re...” Virgil considered his words. “I don’t like my emotions being so in the open to anyone, but you’re incredible, Patton.”

“Oh, th-thank you?” Patton said, cheeks tinting pink. He obviously wasn’t used to receiving compliments.

“You’re uh... you’re welcome,” Virgil replied, facing forward intently. He, obviously, was not used to giving them.

“Oh, hey, we’re almost there!” Patton said, exuberance instantly coloring his tone. He rushed ahead of Virgil, a bounce in his step. “Just around this bend, and then his house is right there, covered in vines like some sort of woodland... creature...” Patton faltered and stopped so suddenly that Virgil ran into his back.

“Mm?” Virgil steadied himself against Patton, Patton’s unusually rigid frame sending spikes of confusion and worry through Virgil. “What’s...”

The words died on his lips as Virgil blanched, finally seeing what Patton was seeing.

“What the hell,” Virgil whispered.

“He’s... there’s... oh, no,” Patton said, just as softly.

Just as Patton had said, there was Logan’s house, covered in vines. From the house in a harsh diagonal line was a gouge in the earth, a strip of upturned boulders and violently removed trees.

Virgil stepped forwards, shaking, into the cut in the earth. He looked down the line. He couldn’t see the end, the horizon a large V shape.

“What the hell happened here?” Virgil said slowly, turning on his heel. What could have  _ caused  _ this? What had the strength needed to completely destroy the forest, what had the drive to –

_ Oh. Oh, no. _ Virgil paled, hoping against hope that it wasn’t who he thought it was.

“Logan...” Patton murmured. “Oh, Logan. He... must have taken the abandonment a little... stronger than I thought.”

“ _ Logan _ did this?” Virgil said, staring at Patton with wide eyes. “This is... beyond power, this is crazy! Nobody should be able to – with that, he’d have to be a holder, at  _ least!” _

“Well,” Patton said, wincing. “I think he is a holder? But he doesn’t really know, y’know?”

“N... no?” Virgil gave him a strange look. “I’ve always known I had a box.”

“But he doesn’t have a knife,” Patton said, hands mimicking holding a knife with both hands. “He’s never talked about it, and I mentioned mine lots of times.”

“How can he be a holder if he doesn’t have a knife?” Virgil said. His mind was spinning and his eyes darted around, looking but not seeing.

Patton shrugged helplessly, eyes a shiny color. “Maybe we should... check his house, just in case?”

Virgil shook himself out of whatever reverie he’d been in, glancing at Patton. “Yeah, that’s... that sounds like a good idea.”

Virgil stepped on Logan’s front porch, glancing left and right as if something was going to jump out at him. The front door was shut tight and he cautiously wrapped his gloved hand around the handle. It wasn’t locked. The door swung slowly inward to show the dusty, immaculate interior.

Virgil swallowed thickly, stepping inside and trying to keep his steps as light as possible.

At a second glance, there were a few notable things out of place, making the room seem... less than immaculate, just slightly off. The windows let in strained light and Virgil pressed his lips together.

The countertop was galactic print, and Virgil knew that Logan hated having such large items looking like a galaxy. “My inconvenient abilities are an accent, not the main attraction,” Logan had said at one point, scrunching his nose distastefully at the chair he’d accidentally colored galaxy.

All of the furniture was shifted as if there had been a particularly large earthquake, and –

Virgil lost his breath. His note was on the table, crumpled. He picked it up with shaky hands and ran his fingers over spots of dried liquid, words blurring behind the salt.

_ I’m sorry _ was smudged, as if someone – as if Logan had rubbed his thumb over it after... after crying.

Virgil’s chest hurt and he put the note down, staring at nothing.

“We should follow the... line,” Patton whispered behind him, unwilling to break the heavy silence but knowing Virgil wouldn’t move otherwise. “He probably didn’t leave with any provisions, and meant to catch you before you moved on from town.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “I mean, the fastest way is a straight line, and he certainly... accomplished that.”

Patton laughed, a soft, fluttery sound. “Yeah! And, if we hurry, we might be able to catch him before he goes somewhere else.”

“If we follow the line and... if it goes all the way to town, then it’ll take like... four plus hours,” Virgil said, tapping his finger against his arm. “I think.”

“Well, let’s stop for lunch then,” Patton said, approaching the counter. “I’m sure he won’t mind if we borrow some supplies, and I’ll give him some more from my house when we find him.”

“O...kay,” Virgil said, fidgeting. He didn’t feel comfortable taking Logan’s food without his permission. Doubts filtered into his mind unheeded.

“Maybe some sandwiches?” Patton murmured, sifting through an icebox. “There’s some pre-cut meats in here and I know he has a roll of cheese somewhere...”

_ What if that’s his favorite food and we’re taking it and he’ll be upset that we stole his favorite and it’ll ruin everything and my life will be OVER – _

Virgil blinked, trying to shake away his thoughts. They tried to race, faster and faster through his head, overriding everything else and making them the center of his attention, unable to think about anything and anyone else –

“Oh, he  _ hates _ turkey,” Patton said, holding up a container of pre-cut meat. “I remember we had so much of it because of how many flocks came through, so he took it, but I know how much he dislikes it. We should get rid of it for him.”

Virgil and his racing thoughts paused. He... hated turkey, so they were... doing him a favor, almost, by getting rid of it...

He missed Patton’s knowing glance in his musings, too caught up running through the many ways this scenario could pan out.

“We should make something and eat it on the way,” Virgil said, resurfacing after swimming in his thoughts. “We don’t have any time to waste.”

“Okay,” Patton agreed easily. “But I’ll make the food. Would you mind checking his house, to make sure everything’s okay? I don’t want to leave standing water or a broken lamp somewhere when we could’ve done something.”

“Yeah, of course,” Virgil said, pulling himself away from the kitchen. He’d check the garden, maybe even pull a few weeds, depending on how quick Patton was. Logan loved his garden. There were fresh vegetables and fruit, of course, but Logan loved his flower garden the most.

_ “Why?” Virgil asked, lightly smoothing his fingers over flower petals. “Most of these are wildflowers. Weeds, by most standards.” He only knew because he’d never seen them in the royal gardens. _

_ “I don’t think they’re weeds,” Logan said. “Since a weed is by definition a flower or plant in a place they should not be. I pull weeds in my vegetable garden because they could choke out the plants, but here, wildlife is able to spread with a few well-placed plants in the beginning of my first summer here.” _

_ “But... they don’t look as good,” Virgil said. His eyes brushed over buttercups and clovers, with their small flowers and explosion of green. _

_ “I think they’re beautiful,” Logan said. He smiled softly at his beds of wildflowers. “And if nobody else sees them, then does it really matter what they think?” _

_ “...no,” Virgil said, a smile gradually working its way onto his face. “No, it doesn’t.” _

_ They shared a secret smile. Logan stood up to walk back to the house or perhaps do some chores, but a frantic feeling in Virgil’s chest, a feeling that yelled at him to keep this moment going before it was lost, blurted out, “Let me make you a flower crown.” _

_ Logan blinked at him. “That seems rather... childish, doesn’t it?” _

_ “Well, I didn’t have much of a childhood,” Virgil countered.  _ Especially after my best friend left, _ he thought but didn’t voice. _

_ Logan’s smile widened, if only slightly. “Very true,” he said, sitting down next to Virgil. “So how does one make a flower crown?” _

_ Virgil felt himself beam for the first time in... well, it must have been forever, he could barely remember. Settling down and pressing their shoulders together, Virgil opened his mouth. _

_ “Well, first...” _

“Virgil?” Patton called out, pulling him from his memory. Virgil was sitting in the middle of Logan’s wildflowers.  _ “They’re resilient _ ,” Logan’s voice told him in his mind.  _ “They won’t be harmed by a little squishing.” _

“Virgil, I finished making... oh,” Patton’s voice grew softer at the sight of the stretches of flowers, dozens of different colors but scraggly in a way only the wild could be.

Virgil sniffed, horrified to find liquid building behind his eyelids. He blinked rapidly and tried to think of something else. Crying wouldn’t help anyone, and besides, he was going to find Logan anyway. They were, quite literally, almost on their way.

Maybe he should grab some flowers for him. Would Logan like a bunch of flowers? Or would he be too mad to accept them?

“His favorite are the blue ones,” Patton said, pointing. “Blue flax, I think?”

“And the blanket flower,” Virgil said, plucking both of them and twining their stems together, the blues and reds mixing pleasantly.

Patton was silent for a few seconds. “Do you think we should bring him some?”

“No, they’ll probably die before we get there, it’ll be hours on the road,” Virgil said, hand dropping.

“I can keep them in my pack, we can roll them up in parchment or something,” Patton said, voice light. “I’m sure he’d love them.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at Virgil’s lips. His resolve hardened at Patton’s words. “I’m sure he would.” Plus, if he already liked wildflowers, then slightly-squished wildflowers weren’t too far off the mark.

Patton smiled at him and Virgil was struck with a heavy sense of deja vu. He stood up abruptly, brushing the dirt off of his clothes. “Alright. I’ll go find some parchment or fabric to wrap the flowers. Uh.”

Patton gave him a soft look. “Alright. Make sure you come back soon enough so that you can pick some flowers out yourself! Then we’ll head out.”

“Okay,” Virgil said, backing away into the house, shutting the door and leaning his back against it, exhaling slowly.

He knew Patton could feel emotions, and could sense when he was feeling overwhelmed, but by the  _ gods _ so much was happening Virgil didn’t know what to think.

Not only was his power going haywire but so were his emotions. Which. Really sucked.

Virgil started walking, on a mission to find something for the wildflowers they would – eventually – present to Logan. He forcibly evened his breathing out.

At the moment, they were fine.

Everything was fine.

—

_ Shit shit shit shit FUCK shit fuck, _ Damian thought to himself, smile straining and steps painfully slow. He wanted to sprint the  _ hell _ away from whatever  _ that _ situation was.

He was endlessly thankful (to himself, not to the gods or whatever other primordial beings people seemed to thank) that his ploy had  _ worked _ . It worked, and he was safe, and they were... distracted...

But what the fuck! What in the hell had happened to Roman?

Damian shot a smirk at some random towns-person. They squeaked and disappeared into their house. While that made him feel a little better, his thoughts were still reeling. Because yeah, he knew Logan was powerful, but he didn’t know that he could vaporize people! Or whatever the hell that was, Damian didn’t know.

It was one thing to be able to sense how much power one contains, but an entirely different thing to know how they harness that power. And Roman’s display was certainly entertaining, Damian would never have guessed the outcome.

He’d thought Roman was going to kill Logan. Which wasn’t really... his intention. He just wanted them to rough each other up a bit. Damian was an awful excuse for a human being and, if there was one, was definitely going to hell for many of his actions, but he didn’t  _ murder  _ people. Either with his own hands or with coercion.

It was much more fulfilling to fuck people’s lives up, anyway.

But Roman... if Logan hadn’t done whatever he did, Roman definitely would have killed Logan.

Damian didn’t know that Roman had so much darkness hidden inside of him. It was kind of... delicious.

Damian licked his lips and felt himself relax. It didn’t matter. Regardless of the outcome, Damian was physically safe, and he had successfully screwed them up, which would definitely slow down their progress. He was getting closer and closer to his goal.

So close, he could almost taste the victory.

The healing orbs would help Thomas in the meantime.

But Damian was finally nearing the point where he would be able to wake Thomas. He’d finally... he’d finally be able to hug him, to comfort him, to provide for him.

God, he couldn’t wait.

Thomas was everything he wasn’t. Lovely, kind, compassionate. Even to Damian. And, yes, Thomas didn’t know everything that Damian did, especially since...

Well, since he’d been asleep for five years...

And since Thomas didn’t age while asleep, his big brother was now... a little brother. Technically. And Damian... was so much more broken than he was before.

So maybe Thomas wouldn’t accept him with open arms. It hurt, but so close to the final moments, Damian couldn’t... wouldn’t lie to himself, not about Thomas. Never about Thomas.

Even if Thomas didn’t love him like he used to... ugh.

Damian despised thinking about it. The idea just... hurt too much. Thomas was the last person in his life, after all... he was nothing without Thomas. For the past five years he’d been hunting for something to wake him.

As much as Damian disliked it, Thomas was the center of his life.

So it would suck if Thomas rejected him.

But even if Damian was left for the dirt, even if Damian was left with nothing but his wounds and horrific tendencies, Thomas would be awake. He would be living, not just surviving.

And... that would be enough for Damian.

It would  _ have  _ to be.

Damian forced down the conflicting emotions rising in his throat.  _ Now’s no time to gain morals, is it? _ He viciously poked holes in any thought that rose with any redeeming qualities.  _ You aren’t good. You destroyed too many lives to count while Thomas saved them. Don’t be surprised when he tells you to get lost. After all, you deserve it. _

Damian felt a bit of peace at that. He  _ did  _ deserve it. He deserved every bit of horror Thomas would throw at him. He hoped, however, that just before Thomas would cast him away, never to be seen by him again, he would get to hug his big – no, his little brother.

Damian hated feelings, but he loved Thomas with every fiber of his being. And he would do anything to protect him, even if – especially if – that meant never seeing him again.

Even if it meant Damian would become lost and aimless.


	7. Chapter 7

_ There was something Roman could never figure out. _

_ Why were knights considered noble if so many of them were horrible people? _

_ He’d had the thought a few weeks into training. Understandably, the official knights were a large part of the training. _

_ “Hey, but make sure to help the rich folks first,” one knight said. “They give you tips. But if you pretend to help the poor right away, they might offer an even bigger reward.” _

_ Roman’s lips twisted into a frown. “But isn’t that against the moral code of knighthood?” _

_ One of his peers nudged him in the shoulder a little too harshly to be considered friendly. “Dude, shut up. They’re telling you how to get extra compensation.” _

_ “And he’s absolutely correct,” another knight added. “The rich will give you material possessions. The poor will try for other things.” He laughed. Roman winced at the sound. “The women especially. You can find some lookers among the dogs.” _

_ Roman gaped at them. When he’d wanted to be a knight, this wasn’t... this wasn’t what he signed up for. These men were... they... _

_ “This is awesome,” one of the boys behind him whispered. “Way cooler than I thought it would be.” _

_ Roman felt sick. _

—

Patton and Virgil were confused yet slightly relieved when the harsh trail ended. Something – or someone, Patton had said cheekily – had stopped Logan in his tracks. Logan himself was nowhere to be found, so they continued – only this time, on the normal trail.

“I wonder if he looked for me?” Patton said brightly. “We always meet whenever he visits and I’m not normally out of town. Well, at least if he had a problem or got hurt, he could grab some of my healing orbs. They don’t work as well as me, but they work better than nothing.”

“What if he got so hurt he couldn’t get to them,” Virgil said in a rush, anxiety prickling at his skin. “What if he’s just lying in the middle of the road in pain because nobody would help him and he just dies there–”

“Woah, slow down tiger,” Patton said, lightly grabbing his shoulders and squeezing. “Logan’s probably fine. He’s always super careful. If he got hurt, it definitely wouldn’t be serious enough that he couldn’t move or call for help if need be.”

Virgil thought, and thought, and really, Logan getting hurt didn’t make much sense. Roman, yes, he could see him accidentally harming himself – which didn’t do much for his anxiety, since Virgil had no idea if he’d ever see Roman again – but Logan? Logan was much too careful.

And he’d obviously gotten past the initial burst, since he’d stopped destroying the forest –

Virgil blanched. “Patton oh my god what if Logan was attacked by a bear and he’s maimed and lying in a cave somewhere and we’re just going in the wrong direction?”

Patton glanced at him, expression softening. “Well, with the power burst he got, I don’t think a bear could have done much to him. Plus, I’m not even sure if normal bears live here, and magical creatures would have steered clear of him.”

Virgil relaxed somewhat at his words. “Okay, yeah – you’re right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Patton said. “I know better than anyone how anxiety can affect someone.”

“You have anxiety?” Virgil asked.

“No,” Patton said carefully. “I’ve helped many people who do.”

Virgil sensed the double meaning. “Ah.”

Patton grinned at him sideways, eyes crinkling at the corners. “But if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know! I know sometimes it can be crippling.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Virgil said, deciding not to question how Patton knew he had capital-A Anxiety instead of just... anxious feelings. “It’s not like that right... right now, just mostly... I’m just worried.”

“I don’t blame you,” Patton said. “But everything will be okay. Logan’s fine.”

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Virgil repeated once out loud and dozens of times in his mind.  _ Logan’s fine, Logan’s fine, Logan’s fine... _

“How much longer do you think until we reach town?” Virgil asked.

“I’m not sure...” Patton glanced at the sky. “Maybe a few hours?”

“Alright,” Virgil replied. He tightened his grip on his back, readjusting.

Just a few more hours. Then he would see Logan.

Everything was going to be okay.

—

Everything was notably  _ not  _ okay and Virgil felt like he was going to throw up.

He’d noticed him first. They exited the forest and, far ahead, past the entrance to the town, was a body.

_ Strange _ , Virgil had thought blithely.  _ Logan must have come through this way. _

Then he noticed a strong magical presence in the air, only... muted. The feeling was truly bizarre, because he knew how strong the magical presence was, but it was like there was a damper on it. A normally-powerful-magic-but-currently-indisposed.

He nudged Patton, fear slicing through his veins. “Pat. Do you feel that?”

“Oh, it’s L–” he cut himself off, choking. “Is that–”

Virgil’s legs moved before he could think, sprinting towards the motionless body. Patton’s words were lost in the wind.

Blood beating in his ears, Virgil slowed to a stop next to the body – next to Logan, undoubtedly Logan. He crouched by the unconscious body and almost threw up.

Burns littered his skin, dark and angry on his arms and a paler red on his legs. His face was spotted with burns, the skin covering his limbs shiny and crinkling.

His glasses laid nearby, the lenses cracked.

Virgil didn’t realize he was shaking until Patton collapsed onto his knees next to him, mouth parted and eyes wide.

Red hot anger and stark white fear washed his mind. When he was finally capable of coherent thought...

_ Burns? _

Virgil’s mind was racing. He looked around Logan. Starbursts of heat were scattered around his body but there was no evidence of a fire anywhere else. Dry grasses nearby waved mockingly in the wind.

Which meant Logan wasn’t harmed in a natural or maliciously started fire, there was a concentrated force pushed upon him –

Virgil’s mind swirled around the word  _ burns  _ and made a horrifying link.

_ Roman could control fire _ .

Logan was obviously attacked by something or some... one, there was no other explanation, but nobody else had the power to wound Logan so completely. Nobody else had Roman’s power. Nobody else could  _ combat _ Logan so fully –

Hot, wet tears dripped onto Virgil’s knees and it took him a moment to realize they weren’t his.

Patton leaned forward, just barely over him, hand pressed against Logan’s neck.

_ He was checking for a pulse _ .

Virgil’s heart stopped.

_ “What if he got so hurt he couldn’t get to them. What if he’s just lying in the middle of the road in pain because nobody would help him and he just dies there–” _

His voice echoed and Virgil couldn’t breathe, because Logan couldn’t be dead–

“He’s breathing and his heart is beating. I could tell, because of... healing, but I just – I just had to – to check,” Patton said thickly. “I’m going to heal him now.”

Virgil grabbed his wrist, staring at Patton. “Don’t...” He could barely get a few words out. Taking a shaky breath, Virgil closed his eyes for a few moments, opening them only after he was ready. “Don’t overdo it. Just enough for. Just enough that he’s safe. You... you matter. Too.”

Patton’s face scrunched up and a new wave of hot tears fell down his cheeks but he nodded in consent, reaching forward with both hands this time.

Virgil pressed his hands against his thighs to quell the shaking. Deciding between the well-being of Logan, his old best friend and new... friend, and Patton, his new... friend and someone who deals with enough shit as it is... was strenuous.

He didn’t want to choose between two people, and maybe some sort of medium could be reached...?

His eyes were dry. Virgil couldn’t blink.

Logan gasped, a watery, rasping noise, and shifted. He groaned as he landed on his back, having slept on his side, eyelids half-lidded and fluttering.

Patton took rapid breaths, hiccuping and drooping. Logan squinted at the two of them.

“I...” Logan coughed violently, his entire body spasming. His body twitched in pain at the movements but the burns were notably more healed than they were before. Regardless, Virgil thought they still looked pretty fucking painful.

“Don’t–” Patton gasped for breath. “Don’t talk–”

“Patton,” Virgil said, voice low and level. His anxiety levels were freakishly low, a loud sound like waves humming in his ears. “You’re absorbing his pain levels. Step away from him.”

“Vir–” Logan whispered, trying to keep himself from coughing. “You...”

“I’m here,” he said, emotions threatening to rise only for him to push them back down resolutely. “Patton’s going to stay with you while I find a stone. Okay? I’ll be right back. Patton, do  _ not _ touch him under any circumstances.”

Patton sniffled but nodded, eyes wide and shining.

Virgil slowly rose to his feet, then stalked into the forest. Chin down, Virgil searched the forest for the boulder he knew was just inside the treeline. He didn’t have to search long. 

The boulder was taller than him and wider, too. Virgil intended on blowing it up and picking up shards to use as moodstones.

He took his glove off and took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

In a sudden rush of movement, Virgil pressed both of his palms against the stone.

He held his breath, waiting for a consequent event.

Nothing happened.

“What...?” Virgil muttered, eyes blown wide. He pressed his hands more forcefully into the stone, imaging an explosion, imagining cracks spreading through the rock. He imagined another rock crushing it, he imagined his anger pulsing from the inside out.

Nothing happened.

“Are you kidding me?” Virgil said out loud, leaning onto his forearms. “After all this time? The one time I need you to do something, you bail?”

Growling, Virgil tried to harness his power. He tried to gather it into a ball and pulse through his hands like he used to, but the energy slipped through his fingers like sand, tumbling back to the bottom of his energy reserve.

“No!” Virgil said, rearing a fist back and slamming it into the stone. He ignored the dull pain spreading through his hand, intently staring down the stone as if it had ruined his entire life. “You will  _ explode  _ if it kills me to do it!”

A sparkle of electricity between his fingers, and nothing.

Virgil couldn’t believe his eyes. The shock from seeing Logan, the shock that held back his emotions and channeled a responsible man, a  _ king _ , started to fade and his emotions swelled in his chest as he breathed.

“All my life I’ve been a slave!” Virgil said lowly, leaning closer to the rock as if he could destroy it simply by proximity. “A slave to your fucking power! And I’m  _ sick  _ of it!”

His fist struck the stone again and a hoarse cry jumped out of his mouth. Virgil yelled, a guttural, painful sound tearing from his throat. “Why won’t you work, damnit! Work!”

Because Logan  _ needed _ him, and Patton _ needed  _ him, and he was sick and  _ tired _ of being a failure. He  _ couldn’t _ be. There wasn’t an option. Patton needed him, Logan was literally suffering from  _ body wide burns  _ that could or could not have been by the hand of Roman, the insufferable prince-in-training with a heart of gold!

His power had been a fickle thing since the beginning and he  _ knew  _ this, he’d come to terms with it, because it was a luck of the draw – usually fate complied to his needs, like distracting the wyrm and with other monsters and when he attacked Roman the stone just fell flat –

“Just blow up!” Virgil shouted, voice scratched and raw. “Please! I’ve bent to your will my whole life, just do this one thing for me!”

When he looked up and the stone was still in tact, and his fingers were just flesh on rock, he felt an indignation like never before swell and spread through his body.

“You know what? Fine! Fine, you fucking failure of an ability!” Virgil rose to his full height, fingers curling and tensing. “I concede! You happy you’re destroying your other parts?” He glared, seeing red. “You need those knives and you’re hurting them!” One foot slid backwards. “Everything could be fixed if you just–” He pulled both hands back, fingers curved and palms out. “– fucking–” He thrust his arms forwards, slamming them into the boulder. “ _ Worked!” _

A blinding light erupted in front of him and he was blown backwards by the force of it. He threw his arms over his eyes, curling into the fetal position. Ears ringing, Virgil peered through his fingers at the stone, blinking rapidly. He tasted salt.

The boulder was still put together, but it was no longer made of stone. Glowing crystalline white, swirling with glitter, was the largest moodstone Virgil had ever seen.

And  _ he’d _ created it.

He made that.

“Holy shit.”

He  _ made  _ that!

“Holy shit!” Virgil jumped to his feet, staring between his hands and the moodstone in awe. “Oh my god!” He pressed his palms against his face, disbelief shining in his eyes. “I made a moodstone!” Incredulous laughter spilled from his lips. “I did it! I finally controlled it!”

He took deep breaths with a stunned smile, shaking his head. “I have to... I have to tell Patton.”

His mood dampened at the thought. Patton was still in slight hysterics and Logan was still unable to stand. He wasn’t done yet.

Brushing off his clothes, Virgil straightened his spine, chin raised. A smirk settled on his face, unable to mute the euphoria of succeeding.

He strode back to town, a determination like never before settling in his bones.

“Patton,” Virgil said, stopping half a dozen feet from him.

Patton’s head shot towards him, bewilderment in his gaze. Because Virgil had never sounded so...

Commanding.

“I...” Virgil’s voice cracked when his eyes shot to Logan’s prone figure. He slumped, shoulders curling forward and head dropping. “I made a moodstone.”

Virgil couldn’t bare looking at Logan, who’s vibrant eyes were dulled and piercing into his own. So he looked at the ground instead.

“Where is it?” Patton asked, words clogging in his throat.

Virgil pointed back at the forest.

Patton cocked his head to the right. “You... left it there? Why?”

“It’s too big to carry,” Virgil said simply.

Patton’s eyes widened and he shot to his feet, almost tripping as he scrambled towards the forest. “I’ll be back!”

Virgil couldn’t help himself from examining Logan, just once, because he had to make sure he was okay.

Well, he had to be okay, Patton had just been here, but Virgil... Virgil needed to see for himself.

“Hey,” Virgil muttered, sitting next to Logan.

Logan’s eyes quirked into a half smile. “Hey.” His voice was raw and scratchy and a wave of sorrow washed through Virgil.

He picked at the dirt ground, upset. “I’m sorry I left.”

Logan silently stared at him, blinking. Virgil couldn’t read his expression and his shoulders tensed as the quiet stretched on.

“Why?”

“Why am I sorry?” Virgil repeated, confused. At Logan’s deadpan expression he laughed sardonically. “Yeah, okay. Why did I leave, right?”

“Yes,” Logan said.

“Well, I...” Virgil clenched his fingers. His hands were both gloveless at this point, and the dirt was changing into tiny particles of sawdust. “I...”

He didn’t realize he was crying until he felt thick drops land on his hands.

Logan made a small noise of protest, hand reaching towards his. He coughed again, body shaking from the effort, and Virgil lowered his head.

“I was stupid,” Virgil said, unwilling to look at Logan. “I was scared. I didn’t want to hurt you. It was... the last thing I wanted to ever do. I... there was a large possibility of me accidentally... I could probably... my hands are weapons.”

Logan shook his head no and reached out with his hand. Virgil flinched at the vicious burns on his forearm, black charred skin in the shape of... a hand print.

Logan seemed to ignore these and instead latched onto Virgil’s hand as best he could. His fingers barely curled into a hold but Virgil knew how hard Logan was trying by the furrow of his eyebrows and scrunched nose.

Logan’s hand was rough and uncomfortably warm. Virgil lightly held it, not wanting to harm Logan but also unwilling to let go.

“I never thought this would happen,” Virgil whispered. Then he paused. “What... what  _ did  _ happen?”

Logan made a face. He opened his mouth then seemed to think better of it, shaking his head.

“You can’t tell me?” Virgil guessed, heart sinking.

Logan contemplated the question. “I can. Too long.”

“You can’t talk,” Virgil said, horror dawning on him. “It fucked up your vocal chords?”

Logan pursed his lips. “Throat. Smoke.”

Virgil could see burns on Logan’s throat too but he didn’t want to dwell, he didn’t want to think about the pain Logan must be in...

Smoke.

He couldn’t talk because of smoke in his lungs.

Virgil could barely wait for Patton to return. How long did it take for someone to dispel excess feelings into a moodstone?

Logan tried to lift his hand towards Virgil’s face only to drop it, pain contorting his features. Virgil tentatively reached out, wrapping his fingers around Logan’s wrist and carefully bringing it to his cheek.

Logan smiled softly, gently rubbing his thumb against Virgil’s cheek, wiping his tears away as best he could. The caring feel of his touch just made Virgil cry harder, leaning into the touch and closing his eyes.

“Virgil!” Patton screamed from the treeline.

Virgil’s head shot up, Logan’s hand falling from his cheek at the sudden movement. Patton was sprinting from the treeline, a brilliant smile etched on his features.

“Virgil, oh my god!” he whooped, arms pumping. “I feel free for the first time in ten years!”

Patton slowed to a stop, leaning over and heaving for breath, hands on his knees.

“I take it the stone worked?” Virgil said, dumbfounded by the transformation. Patton looked... relaxed, almost, despite the situation. There was an airy feel to his movements, like he’d just lost fifty pounds.

“Absolutely!” Patton said, laughing. “Although, I broke it again. Sorry about that.”

“You  _ broke– _ ” Virgil choked on his words. “What the  _ fuck, _ Patton?”

“What?” Patton said sheepishly, as if he didn’t know what Virgil meant. “It wasn’t...  _ that _ big.”

“It was huge for a moodstone!” Virgil threw his hands in the air. “You were dealing with that much shit on the daily? You just earned all of my respect.”

Logan tapped on Virgil’s leg and nodded seriously, eyes darting from Virgil to Patton as he followed the conversation.

Virgil looked back at Patton, disbelief still prominent. “Even Logan agrees with me! You’re wild.”

“Yeah, a little bit,” Patton said, scratching at his cheek and laughing. “But now I have lots of free space to heal up Logan some more!”

Logan’s expression instantly brightened at that, lips quirking in a smile.

“Yeah, just...” Virgil hovered over them both as Patton leaned over Logan. “Don’t overdo it. I don’t think I can make another one, that big one was... a hassle to make.”

“I won’t,” Patton said.

Virgil narrowed his eyes and, not trusting Patton to back off in the slightest, decided to watch and make sure he held true to his words.

“Okay Logan, since you’re awake it’s going to hurt a bit,” Patton said. He winced. “Which is kind-of my fault, since I gave you some of my energy to wake up... I was so worried and even though I knew you were alive I just couldn’t see you so motionless...”

Logan rested his hand against Patton’s thigh, understanding in his gaze. “Don’t worry,” he forced out, rasping.

Patton blinked rapidly and rested his hands on Logan’s chest, hands pulsing a soft green color. Logan tensed up, a guttural noise starting in the back of his throat. Patton started shaking and Virgil tensed nearby, wanting horribly to help but not knowing how.

A few strained minutes passed and Virgil started gnawing on his fingernails, an old bad habit he was starting to pick up again.

Finally, Patton and Logan sighed in unison. Logan’s eyelids fluttered closed and Patton leaned back on his hands, exhaustion in his gaze.

“Is he okay?” Virgil asked immediately, scrutinizing all of Logan’s wounds.

Patton nodded tiredly, smile small and genuine. “I didn’t overdo it. His burns will still hurt, and most likely peel, but the dead skin will fall off over the course of many days, and he’ll be able to walk and talk. The whole thing tired him out, too, and a body heals best when it’s sleeping, so he’ll be asleep for awhile.”

Virgil jerked his head up and down, unable to relax. “Okay. Okay. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Patton said, sounding surprised at how truthful he was being. “I feel fine. That moodstone did wonders, I barely feel Logan’s pain! And it’s more of a slight discomfort, not even painful. I can’t heal him anymore, though, because it becomes dangerous at some point to heal the same wound like that for a prolonged period of time.”

“What do you mean?” Virgil asked, not knowing if he wanted to know the answer.

“My magic isn’t healing,” Patton said, fiddling with his fingers. “It’s... just, human biology, mostly... it’s mostly healing, but it also has to do with psychology... I’ve never really known how to define it. I always use it for healing because it’s... the best way I’ve found to use it. But I can also... increase... wounds?” Patton said, voice upturning at the end of his sentence like a question.

Virgil blinked at him, an anxious sort of buzz starting in his chest.

“Like, uh... if someone already has a fracture in their wrist, or a small crack, I can... break a bone, in an extreme example,” Patton said, wincing at his words. “I’d never want to! That sounds horrible. I... can do another thing, though...”

“What’s that?” Virgil said, forcing his voice to sound neutral. He knew Patton could feel his emotions regardless, but Virgil lived and stood by a well known phrase: fake it ‘til you make it.

“It’s not really... increasing the wound,” Patton said, eyes turning towards the sky in thought. “It’s more increasing the pain felt by the wound? If – if someone got a paper cut, for example, I could either turn it into a... a large cut wound, or I could turn up the pain levels for that paper cut if I... if I wanted to hurt them without wounding them.”

“Oh,” Virgil breathed, the extent of Patton’s words dawning on him. “That’s why they locked you in a church.”

“No!” Patton burst out, eyes wide and hands frantically waving in front of him. “No, nobody knows about that part of my power. Except maybe... Damian, you know... but he hasn’t told anybody if he does. No, they locked me in a church because they thought I was possessed and I didn’t  _ leave  _ because I’m so dangerous. What if during one of my night episodes I hurt someone unintentionally?” Patton’s expression turned to one of extreme sorrow. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“Hey, speaking of those night episodes,” Virgil said, mind flashing back to the night they camped. “That was because of the excess emotions in your body, right?”

“Right,” Patton confirmed.

“So that means they won’t happen anymore?” Virgil asked, voice hopeful.

“Right,” Patton said again, then froze. “Wait.”

Virgil grinned. “You can sleep peacefully.”

Patton gasped, exhilaration flooding through his body. “Oh! I can finally sleep...”

“That’ll be fun,” Virgil said, unable to stop himself from smiling at Patton. He just... he was so  _ happy _ for him, because Patton deserved to get a good night’s sleep every night for the rest of eternity. And finally, finally he would be able to experience it for the first time in... five years.

“Oh, I can’t wait,” Patton whispered. “But, where are we sleeping?”

Virgil opened his mouth, then closed it, face contorting. “You don’t want to go into town, right?”

“I never want to enter that place again,” Patton said, violently shaking his head. “Well, we’re... kind-of in it right now, but not really, only the edges. The far far far edges. And it’s nowhere near the church. So I’m fine right now. But I’m  _ not _ going any further. This was for Logan. I never intended to leave the treeline.”

“Okay,” Virgil said, mind turning. “Uh, is there a house nearby...?”

“Only Logan’s,” Patton said, frowning.

Virgil sighed. Logan’s house was a good four and a half hours away by walk, and that was through the large cut Logan made earlier. They wouldn’t be able to make it, not with Patton almost falling asleep mid-conversation and Logan already passed out.

Virgil groaned in frustration, rubbing at his face. “Let’s set up a camp in the forest, then. The creatures will protect Logan, so we don’t have to worry about them.”

“Okay,” Patton agreed easily.

Virgil crouched down and placed his arms under Logan’s knees and shoulder, lifting him effortlessly.

“Oh, wait–” Patton’s eyes locked on something over the corner of Virgil’s shoulder. “I see something.”

“Hm?” Virgil turned his head slightly as Patton creeped past him, stopping a dozen feet away and picking something up.

“It’s a map,” Patton said, surprise coloring his tone. “I wonder who left it here.”

“Look on the back,” Virgil said, indicating with his head. “Maybe it’ll show who it belongs to.”

Patton opened and read the inside cover, blanching. “Property of Damian Sanders.”

Virgil’s blood ran cold, turning to ice in his veins. He cleared his throat. “We should probably take it with us.”

“What?” Patton said loudly, peering at Virgil.

Virgil shifted awkwardly. “I mean, Damian must have had something to do with this. It might give us a clue. And it’s a map, Patton, he was obviously following it for something. Roll it up, we can look at it later.”

Patton nodded slowly, rolling up the map and shoving it in his pack. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Virgil pressed his lips together.  _ Me too. _

“We should find camp,” Virgil said instead, turning on his heel. Once he knew Patton was by his side, he started walking towards the forest, one foot in front of the other. Next to him, Patton was quiet.

Virgil didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if he should fill the silence or let it fester, because Patton obviously disliked anything to do with Damian. Damian, possibly the same Damian of his past...? Should he ask about it? Should he avoid asking in fear of causing bad memories to surface?

In the end, Virgil said nothing. He and Patton agreed on a place to sleep and they set up camp, deciding to turn in early instead of starting a fire.

The idea of starting a fire left a bad taste in Virgil’s mouth anyway.

They ate whatever supplies they had left. 

Logan was set up with the most comfortable blankets they had, which wasn’t much. Virgil wanted to settle next to him and wrap his arms around him. He wanted to remember what it was like back at Logan’s home.

He resisted the urge, as Logan was still hurt – what if he hurt him even more?

“Hey,” Patton said softly, once they were all inside the makeshift tent and squeezed together. Their shoulders were brushing. Virgil knew if they both moved a little farther away they would still have room and, consequently, not be touching each other.

He didn’t move, and neither did Patton.

“I... you don’t know who Damian is, right?” Patton forced out, his smile and words strained.

Virgil considered his words. “I... I knew a Damian. From a few years ago.”

“Oh,” Patton said, sounding surprised. “Do you think he’s the same one?”

“Damian had a, uh, cape, and...” Virgil clasped his hands together. He’d put his spare pair of gloves on and, thankfully, nothing had happened yet. “I thought it was the coolest thing, y’know? He uh, had that skin thing with spots on his face, and, well, he could... coerce people to do what he wanted.”

Patton smiled painfully, nodding. “That’s... the same Damian all right.”

Virgil shuddered. “It would make more sense if Damian was involved. But... if Roman caused the burns...”

Patton flinched violently and stared at his hands. “We don’t know that.”

“We... don’t.” Virgil’s lips twisted. “But it’s the most likely cause.”

Patton didn’t say anything, and Virgil plowed on.

“If Roman caused the burns, then he would still be around. I can’t believe he did it purposefully, knowing it was Logan, because Logan’s innocent. But either way, Roman wouldn’t just... up and leave. Even if he realized what he’d done, he’d do his damn hardest to make sure Logan was okay. He’s not a coward.” Virgil picked at his glove, thinking.

“What are you saying?” Patton whispered.

“I’m saying, Roman disappeared,” Virgil said flatly, voice blank because of the content rather than who he was saying it to. “He attacked Logan and then disappeared. Most likely. This is still all speculation...”

Patton gazed at Logan’s sleeping figure, watching the rise and fall of his chest. “We can’t know anything for sure. We should wait until Logan wakes up and ask him.”

“Okay,” Virgil said, relief flowing through his body and steadily relaxing all of his muscles. He disliked discussing this topic anyway, and was glad Patton could put an easy end to it. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Patton nodded slowly and laid down, eyes wide. Virgil followed suit but closed his eyes immediately.  _ Please, not tonight, insomnia. _

Eventually he heard Patton’s breath even out and he glanced over to see him curled up, eyes closed and mouth parted slightly. Virgil’s lips quirked into a smile. At least he was sleeping.

Virgil turned his head to watch Logan, eventually turning on his side so he could see him better. He inched closer. Maybe just holding onto him would be okay for the night.

He tried not to remember how, when camping with Patton, he’d tossed and turned almost all night, with nothing to hang onto. Plus, Patton had started screaming, so neither of them got a ton of sleep that night regardless...

But Patton had said Logan was okay to walk. He could function. So it was probably okay if...

Virgil shifted closer. Logan was on his back. Vigil slide his arm over Logan’s stomach and notched his face between Logan’s head and shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of books and spiced tea, with an acrid tinge of smoke.

The stresses of the day seemed to slip away when Virgil cuddled up next to Logan. He half wished Patton was behind him, sandwiching Virgil in a big warm cuddle pile.

He knew the wish was wistful, but he fell asleep dreaming of soft nights and comforting touches.


	8. Chapter 8

When Logan woke up, his throat didn’t feel like he’d swallowed glass anymore. He didn’t feel pulses of pain at certain spots of his body with horrifyingly blank spots of nothingness. He ached, and there was a tiredness behind his eyes, but he could function.

And, Virgil was pressed against him tightly, irritating the burns along his left arm. It was... painful, but not blindingly so. More... severely uncomfortable.

Virgil’s arm was thrown over his stomach and his face was pressed against his neck, his taller body wrapping around Logan’s, and Logan...

Well, he wasn’t protesting per se, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable on his burns.

“Virge,” Logan murmured, poking at his shoulder. “Virgil.”

He didn’t move and Logan got a little braver.

“Virgil. Dearheart. Darling. Lovely man of my past. Virge. Dear. Treasure. Sweet–”

“Logan?”

Logan squeaked and startled, jostling Virgil. Pain flamed up his arm but his attention was all on Patton, who was sitting up on his elbows and staring at him with wide eyes.

Logan’s face suddenly felt like it was on fire, and he knew for a fact that Patton had healed most of the burns there. “Uh.”

Patton blushed, ears and neck red. “I didn’t know you... felt that way about Virgil.”

“About Virgil?” Logan asked, voice higher than he’d heard it in a long time. He prided himself on his naturally deep voice. It wasn’t particularly deep for a man, but...

“Wha’ ‘bout me?” Virgil mumbled, groaning and rubbing at his face. Logan glanced down at him and was reminded of a waking kitten. His cheeks burned. Virgil blinked up at him and Logan looked away, a natural, unintentional pout settling on his lips.

“Nothing,” Logan muttered, shoulders raising.

Patton giggled and Logan turned his face away.

Virgil made small sounds of protest, reaching up. “No, don’t go.”

“Shut up,” Logan said, raising his hands to scrub at his face. It stung, slightly, but he didn’t stop.

“You two are so cute,” Patton said, laughter and something else Logan couldn’t name coloring his tone.

“We–!” Logan sputtered, eyes wide.

“We aren’t together,” Virgil blurted out, scurrying away from Logan. “We – we aren’t–”

“Nope,” Logan laughed, but not really. “Just friends.”

Patton raised an eyebrow. Logan and Virgil gave him strained smiles and Patton shrugged. “Alright, sure. Whatever you say.”

Virgil scrunched his face at Patton while Logan rolled his eyes, trying to regain his composure.

Patton smiled secretly, watching their aura’s twine together. He could see his own interact with theirs and tried to ignore it, the way they all seemed to mesh in cohesion.

“I don’t want to... ruin this,” Patton said, waving his hand, not entirely sure what “this” was. “But... we should look at the map.”

“Oh, right,” Virgil said, deflating. “Where did you put it?”

“Here,” Patton said, raising it in front of his face.  _ Property of Damian Sanders _ glared back at him.

“A map?” Logan said, brightening. His hands reached for it almost instinctively and Patton passed it to Virgil, who handed it to Logan, the both of them watching him intently. His eyes sparkled, face suddenly animate.

“At face value, it’s a map of Xeria,” Logan said, turning it over in his hands. “It...” He paled. “It’s Damian’s?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, voice clipped. “What does that mean?”

“It means this isn’t just a map,” Logan said, biting his lip. “Unless this had some sentimental significance, there’s no reason to have his name on there. Which means this map does something. Maybe there’s a code word, or something...”

Logan scrutinized the map as if it would reveal itself if he just stared at it long enough.

“Maybe it’s used to find something?” Patton suggested, crossing his legs. “Like a treasure map!”

“You know, you might be right,” Logan said, bringing the map closer to his face.

“You know what I want a map to? My damn box,” Virgil said, lounging backwards. “And maybe your knives, too. Find those knives, y’know?”

Logan gasped. “Virgil, you’re a genius!”

Virgil stared at him. “What?”

“Those were the code words!” Logan shook the map, grinning widely. Patton and Virgil couldn’t help but stare, their cheeks heating. “Find those knives. Look!”

He spun the map around, pointing. Two knife symbols flashed next to a small box, all settled in a tower not too far from the town.

Patton and Virgil glanced at each other, realization dawning in their eyes.

“And, uh...” Logan shook the map again, turning it back towards him and frowning. “The final knife is still lost.”

Virgil peered at the map and saw a flickering blade. It jumped around the country spastically, never settling in one place for more than a split second.

“That... doesn’t make any sense,” Virgil said. “A knife can’t be everywhere at once.”

“Everywhere and nowhere,” Logan agreed. “I... suppose, well... Roman said I was a holder as well,” he said, discomfort shining. “I don’t... have a knife.”

“Obviously you do,” Virgil said, pointing at the map. “It’s everywhere and nowhere.”

“Convenient,” Logan said dryly. “But we’re not discussing my knife, or lack thereof. You’ve been searching for your box, Virgil, and you, Patton, for your knife. We finally know where to find them. This is  _ groundbreaking _ . Why aren’t you more excited?”

Virgil and Patton exchanged glances. Patton looked back to Logan, worrying his lip. “See, well, if it’s Damian’s map, and it shows where the blades and box are...”

“...then he definitely stole them from us,” Virgil concluded.

Logan parted his mouth and closed it, staring down at the map. “Oh,” he said, voice small.

Patton shuddered. “And that means he’s there.”

Virgil clenched his hands together. “I _ hate _ that he’s there. Why can’t we just go and take them back? They’re  _ ours _ . He doesn’t have any reason to take them.”

“Except for the stone inside,” Logan said.

“The stone that has a mysterious power, a power nobody knows,” Patton agreed.

“Well...” Virgil winced. “It’s not really mysterious.”

Logan and Patton turned to stare at him.

Virgil sank into himself. “It grants a wish.”

“A wish,” Logan repeated. “That’s it? It’s that vague?”

Virgil shrugged. “My power isn’t exactly conventional, Logan.”

“We need to go there,” Patton said forcefully. He ignored their eyes, driving on. “We need to. This isn’t a debate. Virgil, you  _ left Logan _ because you didn’t have this knife. I was driven from where I lived for so long because of it, and Roman... Roman is missing.”

Logan tensed.

“And we can’t let one  _ damn  _ person stop us from getting our  _ fucking _ lives back,” Patton said, eyes hard as diamonds and voice like steel.

“We need to find Roman,” Logan whispered.

“We need to get those knives,” Virgil added.

“We need to go to the tower,” Patton concluded. “And we need to take our shit back.”

They all stared at each other, forcing bravery to cover up the growing knot of discomfort.

—

Patton hated walking.

Normally, he loved it – easy exercise, he got to experience the world, and sometimes he was even with somebody! Which was always fun, he loved experiencing things with people.

In this case, however, walking  _ sucked _ .

Logan and Virgil were silent. All Patton could hear was their footsteps, breathing, and the occasional sway of leaves in the wind.

He tried to not think about how he was literally walking towards the one person he never wanted to see again — but with nothing to entertain his mind, he couldn’t avoid the thoughts swirling around his head.

Logan barely took his eyes off the map and Virgil was watching his feet. Patton watched their auras benignly, the depressed tint and fear glazing the edges.

Patton wanted to talk, to say something, but the half-formed words stopped behind his lips, refusing to escape. He trudged on, following a man too intent on a piece of paper and a man with the most interesting shoes in the world.

—

_ Roman knew, somewhere, deep down, that being a knight... it was fake. Every ideal surrounding knighthood was false. And he hated it. He’d fallen in love with knighthood as a boy and all of his dreams... _

_ Were fake. _

_ Not only was he crushed, but he knew facts that were not open to the public. Being a knight was a long term commitment. A commitment that Roman, suddenly, didn’t really know if he wanted. _

_ He wanted to be a knight. _

_ Not whatever this... fake noble pretentious act was. _

_ Real life knights were fake. _

_ And Roman, trying to be the most genuine knight in the kingdom, was considered the failure of the group. _

_ — _

“You know, when I was a kid, I wanted to be an architect,” Logan said blandly, staring up at the tower.

“I remember that,” Virgil said, fiddling with his fingers. “You stole all the blueprints to the castle and almost caused a kingdom-wide catastrophe.”

“I lost interest at some point, but,” Logan continued, “this is a badly made tower.”

“It looks like it’s straight out of a storybook,” Patton said. “Look at the top of the tower, doesn’t it look like there should be a dragon there?”

“Dragon’s don’t exist, Patton,” Logan said.

“Wyrms exist, why can’t dragons?” Virgil challenged.

“Well–”

“Look, the door’s open,” Patton interrupted, pointing. “Do you think he left it open in a rush?”

“He has most of the pieces he needs,” Logan said thoughtfully. “He’s probably waited for this moment for years.”

“Who knows?” Virgil shrugged. “I, for one, could not care less. Let’s get in, get out, and leave forever.”

“I second that plan,” Patton said.

“I suppose that’s the best course of action,” Logan agreed.

They exchanged harried glances, and simultaneously took a step towards the entrance.

“I think the gray is a bit tasteful,” Patton murmured.

“Really? I think it looks sad,” Virgil said.

“It doesn’t matter what it looks like,” Logan said, rolling his eyes. “But for the record, this particular stone is used as an accent, which is why it’s so ugly all put together.”

“Ohhh,” Virgil and Patton said at the same time.

“We should probably be quiet, too,” Logan whispered as they crept through the cracked open door, pushing it slowly and carefully to make sure it didn’t creak.

Virgil nodded while Patton whispered a quiet, “okay.”

Logan led the way, despite none of them knowing the layout of the castle. Whenever they came to a crossroads, or a staircase, he’d stare at the new choice for long seconds before either taking it or moving on.

Neither Patton nor Virgil knew what to say, but they weren’t going to question it.

At one point, Logan held his hand out to stop them.

“Something’s behind this door,” he whispered, gesturing with his head. Patton and Virgil nodded, and Logan turned the doorknob slowly.

They all held their breath and leaned forwards, eyes wide.

The door opened to an empty bedroom. They all exhaled in relief.

Then Patton tensed. “There’s someone in here.”

A loud crack was heard through the hallway and they all scrambled into the room, gently shutting the door as fast as they could. Logan leaned against it as if to block anyone from entering while Virgil counting out his breathing.

Patton, however, approached the canopy bed.

“Patton, what are you doing?” Logan hissed.

“There’s someone in this!” Patton whisper yelled back. “They’re sleeping.”

“Who is it?” Virgil whispered back.

“I don’t know, I don’t recognize them,” Patton murmured. “But they’re sleeping very deeply. I don’t... I don’t think this is a normal sleep.”

“There’s many kinds of unconsciousness,” Logan whispered. “Passing out, sleeping, coma, getting knocked out...”

“Well, I don’t know,” Patton said quietly. “I just know that they aren’t normal sleeping. They’re... well, their aura is really dulled, like I’m looking at it through water.”

Logan scrunched up his nose. “Well, I don’t know what they’re doing here, but I know we need to find those knives and box before–”

The door banged loudly and Logan jerked forwards. He pressed his back against the door, eyes wide.  _ What should I do _ ? he mouthed.

Virgil opened his mouth just as the door slammed forward, Logan thrown out of the way.

Damian glowered at them from the threshold. “What the  _ fuck _ are you doing here?”

Patton looked like he was going to pass out.

“We just want our shit back!” Virgil said, clenching his hands to stop the shaking.

“You weren’t  _ using _ it, what’s the use?” Damian said, not even pretending he didn’t know what they were talking about. “You three are useless! Four! Wherever the hell Roman is!”

“Oh, like you don’t know what happened to him,” Virgil sneered.

“Actually, I don’t!” Damian said, throwing his arms in the air. “Listen, I just fuck people up, I don’t make them... disappear or whatever the hell that was. If you want to know where your little  _ friend  _ went, ask the shit who did it!” Damian jerked his arm out towards Logan.

“Don’t play these games with me,  _ Dee _ ,” Virgil snapped. “I know how much you love to lie.”

“He’s not lying,” Patton said quietly.

Virgil froze, head turning towards him. “What?”

“You heard the man,” Damian said, scowling. “I wouldn’t lie about shit like this. If I could just make him disappear, do you think I’d go through all this trouble? Damn, I’d make  _ you _ disappear if I could.”

“Logan made him...” Virgil took a step back, head spinning.

“I... I didn’t mean to!” Logan yelled, raising his hands to the sides of his head and leaning his elbows on his thighs. “One moment he was burning my arms to the bone and the next he wasn’t even there!”

“He  _ did _ burn you, holy shit,” Virgil said, shaking. Patton whimpered, backing into a corner.

“Yeah, your little knight isn’t so knightly after all, is he?” Damian laughed. “Harming his own friend.”

“He – it was your fault!” Logan shouted. “He didn’t think it was me, he thought I was – I was all of his failures, and that he was gaining retribution for – for–”

“For what, Logan?” Damian snickered. “For how bad he was at life? Give me a break. All of his faults and failures were by his own design. He caused his own destruction.”

“No!” Logan shrieked, curling forward. “He tried so hard to be a good person! He didn’t deserve any of the shit he had to deal with, none of it! I never meant for him to disappear, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Aw,  _ now _ he apologizes,” Damian said mockingly.

He opened his mouth to continue, only to be cut off by Virgil. “Shut the fuck up, you don’t matter!”

Patton pressed his hands to his face, humming a high pitch nervously.

“Roman, please come back,” Logan all but sobbed, cheeks dry but throat clogging. “I never meant to make you disappear!  _ We need you!” _

A loud  _ snap _ echoed through the room and everyone froze. Out of thin air, a long, jagged blade appeared, and Roman cracked into existence before their eyes.

Roman stood there, a bewildered expression settled on his face as he swayed in place. His hand was gripping the knife loosely and he glanced down at it, as if surprised to see the hilt in his grip.

“Roman?” Logan whispered, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Roman!” Patton said, heaving breaths of air, a wobbly smile on his face.

“Oh,  _ Roman,” _ Virgil breathed.

Roman’s eyes shot around the room. “Patton, Patton, I’m so glad you’re okay,” he started, then his gaze landed on Virgil and he stopped mid-motion.

He opened his mouth, disbelief in his eyes. “...Anxiety?”

Virgil gave him a watery smile. “Actually, it’s Virgil.”

“Wait,” Logan said, holding up a hand. “ _ You’re _ Anxiety?”

“You’re  _ Virgil? _ ” Roman asked. “You’re the same person, by the gods.”

“Same person,” Virgil said, holding his arms to gesture to himself.

“And, Logan,” Roman said, turning his gaze to the huddle on the floor. “Oh, Logan, I don’t remember what happened but–” He froze, paling visibly. “Oh no, no no no, Logan, no,  _ please _ tell me those aren’t burns.”

Logan glanced at his arms and rapidly hid them behind his back. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.

“Those are burns, and Patton is here, which means he healed you, which means that’s the healed version, no,  _ no _ , tell me I didn’t burn you, please,” Roman begged.

“You didn’t burn me,” Logan said.

“And that, my fair fellow, is a lie,” Damian sang, stepping forward. “What, you think I can’t sense these things? I’ve lived my whole life twisting truths into lies. Roman, you burnt him. You burnt him almost beyond repair. If it weren’t for Patton, he wouldn’t be able to move or speak right now.”

“That’s...” Logan winced. “But Patton was there, and–”

“You wouldn’t be able to  _ move _ ?” Roman repeated, voice hushed and broken.

“Oh, he would be completely immobile,” Damian said, smirking, reveling in the pain swirling around the room. “In fact, if Logan hadn’t pulled that party trick, you would have killed him.”

The air hung heavy.

“Killed him...?” Roman said quietly, staring at his hands.

“No, you wouldn’t have killed him,” Virgil said, reaching out to him.

Roman recoiled, bringing his hands to his chest. “You weren’t there. You weren’t... you don’t know. I... I could’ve  _ killed _ Logan, get away from me!”

“But you didn’t,” Logan said. He pushed himself to his feet. “I’m fine. We’re all fine. We’re going to get our knives back — and Virgil’s box — and we’re all going to be  _ fine _ .”

“About that,” Damian said, picking at his nails. “You’re all too late.”

“It’s never too late,” Virgil hissed, eyes dark.

“Virgil, how ironic of you to say that,” Damian said, reaching into his pocket. He brandished an opaque white stone, creamy as the moon. “Look what’s inside that little box of yours. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“That’s–!” Virgil reached for it.

Damian’s eyes flashed a bright yellow and Virgil froze in place. “Ah ah ah, you know what happens when you don’t obey the  _ rules _ .”

“You don’t deserve that,” Logan said.

“You don’t matter, so don’t speak,” Damian said dismissively. “You, on the other hand.” He directed his gaze at Roman. “You have something I want.”

His eyes zeroed in on the blade and his eyes flashed yellow. “Give it to me.”

Roman’s fist started to raise before he realized what he was doing and forced it back down again. He stared into Damian’s eyes, opened his mouth, and spat. “No.”

Damian recoiled. “Ugh, so uncivilized.”

“Stop being such a bitch, Damian,” Virgil sneered. “What do you want?”

“Wouldn’t  _ you _ like to know,” Damian placed a hand on his hip. “Why would I ever, ever tell you?”

“Maybe we can come to a consensus,” Logan said.

Damian and Virgil snorted derisively.

“I’m sorry Lo, but Damian doesn’t know what that means,” Virgil said pointedly.

“I would never bargain with someone who has such a bad hand,” Damian said.

“You have a wish, maybe we can grant it,” Logan pressed on. “Maybe you don’t need the stone.”

Damian flat out laughed. “Piss off and get out of my way.”

“Hey!” Roman stepped forwards, fire swirling around his fists. “Don’t you dare speak to him like that.”

“I can speak however I want–”

“You have  _ NO POWER! _ ” Roman bellowed, arms igniting into bright silver flames. “We are all stronger than you, even without our control! The knives and box are not our source of power, merely the object with which we control them. We could kill you easily.”

Damian stared at him blankly for a few long seconds before the barest smile began to show.

“You have power?” Damian said, smile stretching across his face. “Your power  _ mutilated _ Logan. You lost Virgil. You lost Patton. You can’t find the approval of your peers and you weren’t there for any of them when they needed it most.”

Roman’s fire dimmed, expression cracking. “That doesn’t mean anything–”

“Aren’t you afraid, Roman?” Damian’s eyes were dull, lacking the luminescence of his power. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll lose this control you’re so flippant about? Oh, sorry, I mean lose control  _ again. _ Wouldn’t want a part two to Logan’s  _ scars _ , now would we?”

“Damian, shut the fuck up,” Virgil cut in.

“No,  _ you _ shut up,  _ Virge _ .” Damian raised his lip in disgust. “You’re just as bad as him. You can’t control your power on a good day. Without your precious box, you can’t even touch things without them falling apart. Isn’t that why you–” Damian’s eyes flashed. “–left Logan in the dark? Left him in the early hours of the morning, right out of – oh, this is rich.” Damian laughed. “Right out of his arms? Damn, Virgil, I knew you were vicious but that’s too much.”

“Stop,” Logan said harshly. “Roman has control over his powers, you manipulated him. And Virgil had a valid reason for leaving me. In fact, his reasoning is more selfless than anything, because he wanted to stay instead of leave without telling me.  _ That’s _ the truth. The truth you’re so adverse to saying.”

Virgil mustered up a half smile and shot it in Logan’s direction while Roman’s eyes softened, silver fire licking at his sleeves.

Damian, on the other hand, was not pleased. Expression darkening, he stared derisively down at Logan, who stared right on back.

Then Damian’s expression transformed into one of smug amusement. “Logan, you claim to be a bearer of truth when you’re so full of lies. You lie every second of every day.”

Logan balked. “I do  _ not! _ ”

“You do,” Damian said placating. “After all,  _ you’re not even a man _ .”

Deadly silence fell over the room. Virgil looked like he was going to puke, Roman’s horrified expression portrayed his mind working to connect the pieces, and Logan felt like he’d been sucker punched in the gut.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Damian startled, looking towards the corner of the room. Once his eyes landed on the speaker his lips stretched into another smile. “Ah, Patton, I forgot you existed. Really, you’re so forge–”

“What. The fuck. Did you just say?” Patton repeated, the words falling from his mouth like bullets.

Damian frowned. “Are you referring to the Logan comment? Because it’s completely true, Logan isn’t even his real name–”

Patton swelled up, and an overwhelming waterfall of emotions crashed over everyone in the room. Fury rolled off of Patton in waves. “You fucking dis _ grace _ of a human being!” Patton yelled.

Damian grunted, clutching at his elbow. A pained expression overtook his face and he fought for composure.

“Logan is more of a man than you’ll ever be!” Patton shouted, taking a step towards him. Damian’s knees buckled and he fell, groaning. Patton’s fist clenched. “You hurt so many people. How does it feel,  _ Dee _ ?” Patton leaned his face closer to Damian, expression dark. “How does it feel to be the one being  _ hurt?” _

“I–” Damian spit on the ground and was relieved to see no blood mixed in. Screwing his face up, he raised his good arm, hand wrapped around the stone, and threw it at Roman.

Roman yelped, caught off guard, but there was nothing he could do as the stone flew through the air, striking the knife in Roman’s hands on the way. It started to glow a brilliant purple color, wisps of silver trailing through it like lightning.

“No,” Virgil said. “No! Don’t let him speak!”

Patton yelled and clenched his fist and Damian started screaming, curling in on himself.

Virgil had no idea what small wounds Damian had, but Virgil was grateful as hell that Patton was on their side.

“I–” Damian shrieked. Roman self-immolated into the silvery fire from before, filling the room with light and a steady roar. “I wish–”

Virgil threw off his gloves and searched the room, wrapping his fingers around two candlesticks and preparing to knock Damian out. Logan concentrated, a frustrated expression blooming on his face when the other two knives and Virgil’s box appeared, not his intended targets.

“I wish–” Damian’s voice became strangled and warped, but he managed to scream out, “I WISH THOMAS WOULD WAKE UP!”

The whole room exploded into purple light, silvery wisps trailing through the air like ribbons, circling and filling the room like fog.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Virgil yelled. His voice sounded muted to the others, the noise swallowed by the silver fog. “You went through all the damn trouble and pain when you just wanted to wake somebody up? Jesus Christ Damian! You’re dumber than I remember!”

Fortunately (or unfortunately) Damian missed most of his words, only catching a few among the swirling chaos. He stood, the overwhelming pain numbed by the mist, and stepped towards the bed.

The fog slowly dispersed the closer he got, and trepidation clogged his throat and filled his chest. Damian didn’t think he could even talk.

_ What if Thomas hates you? _

_ Then that’s the price I’ll have to pay _ .

He stood by the bed, hand shakily grasping at the edges of his cloak, an old habit he’d been trying to break. Thomas laid prone, as he always had, but...

But then he shifted, and groaned, and lifted an arm to rub at his face. He pushed himself upright and blinked. “Uh...”

“T... Thomas...?” Damian whispered, tentatively reaching out but drawing back at the last second. He swallowed thickly, hoping desperately that his eyes were only stinging from the fog.

“Damian?” Thomas squinted at him, fingers curling on the sheets as he leaned his back against the headboard. “You’re... is that really you?”

Damian reached up and touched his face, fingers trailing over scars and marks. One of his eyes had turned more snakelike than the other, steadily changing to a dull yellow instead of his normal green. His powers had a slight... side effect. “Yes, Thomas, it’s... your little brother.”

“Not so little anymore, are you?” Thomas teased, reaching out to ruffle his hair but falling just short. “Uh, where am I? And – oh my god, hello!”

They blinked at him. “Hi,” Patton said.

“Who are these people and why were you all watching me sleep?” Thomas stage whispered to Damian.

“You don’t remember?” Damian’s heart dropped.

“I’d say ‘remember what?’ but that kinda defeats the purpose of the question,” Thomas replied, smiling.

“What do you remember?” Damian insisted.

“Well...” Thomas scrunched up his face in thought. “I remember taking out some laundry to dry, and going back inside. I decided to make something, I think? Like, soap or something used daily like that, because practicality is the best survivor.”

“I was cursed,” Damian said flatly. Logan slapped his hand over Virgil’s mouth and Patton lightly pressed his palm against Roman’s lips. “Pissed off the wrong person, I suppose. They told me they were going to ruin the thing I held most dear, and, well... I laughed at them. Because I didn’t think I had one. Then I came home to you slumped on the table, and... you haven’t woken since. It was... so painful, because there’s no remedy and you weren’t technically dead so I kept fighting, and Thomas, I just...”

“Wait, I’ve been asleep?” Thomas said, eyes trained on the comforter. “H... how long?”

“It’s been... five years,” Damian murmured.

Thomas didn’t blink. “Five years?”

Damian nodded.

Thomas slumped. “Five years. I’ve been sleeping for five years. You’re... have I aged?” He touched his face.

“No,” Damian said.

“Which means...” Thomas looked at him strangely. “You’re technically three years older than me.”

Damian shifted uncomfortably. “I suppose.”

“And... who are these guys?” Thomas said, moving his gaze to the other four. “And where am I?”

“I’m Roman,” Roman said stiffly. “You’re in a tower not too far from town. Uh, the town of Thistle. And we are holders. Damian stole our knives – and box – to use the wishing stone inside.”

“Holders...? Knives? Damian, what is going on?” Thomas said, bewildered.

“You know the storybooks we read as a kid?” Damian explained. “How there were four holders with extreme power, who would defeat some evil? And that the item in the box would grant one wish?”

“Those are  _ real _ ?” Thomas said, eyes lighting up. “Oh my goodness, you four are like... legends! This is so cool! But... the evil they defeated, was it my... constant sleep?”

“No,” Roman said before Damian could lie his way out. His eyes were stormy. “Damian didn’t  _ ask _ us to use the stone. He stole from us, hurt us, and manipulated us. The evil we have not yet defeated... is Damian.”

Thomas’s mouth fell open. He looked to Damian, who shrugged, an apologetic look on his face.

“I never claimed to be a good person,” Damian said, natural to anyone who didn’t know him. Thomas heard the undertone of fear.

“You said you wouldn’t do it again,” Thomas said, deflating. “I was gone for five years. What did you do during all that time?”

For a few long seconds, all anyone could hear was breathing.

“Nothing good,” Damian said, smiling at Thomas apologetically but not with regret. “Sorry, Thomas, couldn’t keep up your ideals.”

“Is any of it redeemable?” Thomas looked to the others frantically. “He’s been redeemable before. He can work through this.”

“He’s not sorry,” Logan said, stepping forward. “If given the choice, he would do everything over again. And again. That’s the kind of person he is. He would redo this entire situation until he came out on top, only  _ without _ the bad knee.”

“The bad...?” Damian looked down and choked. In the scuffle his pants had torn, and a dark bruise showed through. Rolling his pants up, Damian wordlessly stared at the bruise spanning his knee and spread over half of his thigh and calf.

“Holy  _ shit _ ,” Thomas said, leaning over the bed. “How the hell did you do that?”

“I didn’t,” Damian said, lightly brushing his fingers over the bruise and wincing. “I didn’t even notice it because of the wishing stone, its fog muffled everything...”

“I did it,” Patton said. He refused to look at Damian and instead trained his eyes on Thomas. “He ruined my life and hurt my friends. He had a small bruise on his knee, so I increased it.”

“Of course you can control wounds, healing wasn’t enough,” Damian muttered, curling his lip at the bruise.

“Shut up,” Virgil snapped. “You’ve done enough. What else do you want? You got your greatest wish. Are you happy?”

“It was never about making me happy,” Damian snarled. Then his lips curled upwards. “Although the process was rather fun.”

“You don’t make any sense!” Virgil exclaimed. “You’re selfish and horrible, why wouldn’t you want to be happy?”

“My end goal was never happiness,” Damian said. “How dim-witted of you. No, I simply wanted... Thomas to wake up.”

“Yes, but he’s awake now,” Roman said, plowing through whatever awkward or fury-induced words the others were about to say. “Now what? Happy with the shit you made us go through?”

“I’d say so, yes,” Damian said, staring at Roman piercingly. “What, do you want me to take it back? Apologize?”

“Damian,” Thomas said, sounding hurt. “What did you  _ do _ ?”

Damian smiled at Thomas, hopeless and lacking regret. “Too much and not enough.”

“God, you’re just...” Virgil looked like he wanted to strangle him. “I’m against killing but I can’t see any other way to prevent you from screwing more people up.”

“Don’t kill him!” Thomas interjected. “Please don’t kill him.”

“As if you’d be able to kill me anyway,” Damian snorted.

Logan frowned and crossed his arms. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

Damian sneered. “Yeah, what are you gonna do? All of your powers harm people. You can’t–”

A loud popping noise snapped through the room and Damian disappeared mid-sentence.

“Oh my god!” Thomas jerked away from where Damian was standing. “What just happened to him? He just – he just disappeared!”

“That would be me,” Logan said. “I... locked away memories of my powers when I was very little, locking my knife away with it, but... I believe I can control space. At the moment, Damian is in a pocket dimension.”

“Did you know he could do that?” Roman whispered to Patton.

Patton shook his head and shrugged. “I knew he could do  _ something. _ ”

“Will he be okay?” Thomas asked, implored. “I... I know he did irredeemable things, and I won’t ask you to forgive him, and I’ll use all of my power to keep him away from you, but... I don’t want him to die.”

“He’s a shitty person, he doesn’t deserve a good ending,” Virgil muttered.

“I know you’re bitter, and angry, but... Damian doesn’t deserve that,” Patton said.

They stared at him, incredulous. “Patton,” Roman said quietly, intense.

“I don’t mean that he doesn’t deserve your hatred!” Patton said quickly, realizing what conclusion they’d reached. “I mean he doesn’t deserve to take up so much of your emotions and thoughts. I... I don’t care what happens to him. I just want him away from me, and you all, and I want to never ever see him again or even think about him.”

“Yitier island,” Thomas said suddenly. When they stared at him, confusion in their gazes, he smiled sheepishly. “It’s where I live. The island isn’t large, but it’s not small, the community there is wonderful. But it’s a good distance from the mainland. I could keep him there. I don’t know how well he’ll stay on the island, though... he would be able to escape somehow, he can always find a way.”

“Unless I put a spell on it,” Logan said, something bright dawning in his eyes. “I could spell the island so he couldn’t leave. Any time he tries to escape the limits I set, he’ll be sent back to a set point... probably somewhere in your house? Either way, then he wouldn’t ever be able to leave the island, and he wouldn’t be dead.”

Thomas smiled slowly. “I... I think that might work. What do you three think?”

“It’s a good plan, better than I could have hoped for,” Patton said. “Logan, you’re so clever!”

Logan stiffened, eyes flitting over to Patton’s before looking down.

Virgil smirked at his reddened ears. “I, for one, enjoy the thought of infuriating him by trapping him in one place.”

“I’m all for it,” Roman said. “And frankly shocked that Damian has such an understanding relative.”

“He’s always been... more like our father,” Thomas said, pursing his lips. “Our father... was not a good man. I do my best...”

“Are you alright with... handling him for... an indeterminate amount of time?” Logan asked carefully.

“You mean am I okay dealing with his bull for the rest of his life?” Thomas repeated wryly. “Yeah, I’m fine with it. I’ll have to figure out how to adjust to... five years, but otherwise... I’ve been living with him my whole life, I know what to do.”

“I’m glad,” Patton said. “I don’t... I’d feel bad if we just pushed him on you and you were unwilling.”

“Nope.” Thomas shrugged. “I’m fine. Although, I miss my friends pretty badly. Agh, man, they’re all gonna be five years older now... I wonder if they sold my house. Oh, that would be bad.”

“We’ll help you figure it out,” Roman promised. “And then we’ll... uh. Go back to our lives, I suppose. I think I’ll travel, find somewhere, because... there’s no way I can go back to my old place.”

“I’m going back to my kingdom,” Virgil said. “And I’m going to learn how to rule justly. You guys can, uh, come with... if you want.”

“Your kingdom?” Thomas blinked at him. “Wait, wait... five years. Oh my god, are you Prince Virgil?”

Virgil smiled at him sardonically. “The one and only.”

“Oh my god,” Thomas groaned. “You’re the one Damian... oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

Virgil shrugged. “It’s all in the past and absolutely not your fault.”

“I’m going with him,” Patton spoke up, rubbing his arm. “I’m not going back to Thistle.”

Virgil and Patton shared a hidden smile, relief in both of their gazes. They didn’t want to split up any time soon.

“I suppose I’ll go with too,” Roman said. He rolled his shoulders. “See what this kingdom is all about.”

They all looked at Logan, who shuffled his feet. “I want to go back home,” he mumbled. He missed Patton’s consoling look at Virgil, and Roman mouthing  _ he’s a work in progress. _

“Um... now that it’s kind of settled...” Thomas sat more upright in his bed. “Can you bring him back now?”

Logan nodded, straightening his spine.

“–do anything to...” Damian trailed off. “Ah  _ shit _ , you just Roman-ed me.”

“Don’t use my name as a verb!” Roman protested, offended.

“Damian, we...” Thomas moved to the edge of the bed with a pained expression. “We’re going to put you back in the pocket dimension later, but I wanted you to know what was going to happen.”

The four holders held their breath, expecting Damian to snap at him.

Instead, Damian’s expression softened and his shoulders loosened. He took a breath. “Okay, baby brother.”

Thomas scrunched up his nose. “Oh man, don’t say that, that’s so weird.”

Damian tried to force his smile down.

“But, uh...” Thomas took a deep breath and stared Damian directly in the eyes. “You’re going to live with me for... for awhile, on Yitier. You won’t be able to leave the island.”

Damian was silent, fingers rubbing against his cape.

“I – I understand if you don’t like the thought of living with me very much,” Thomas said, gaze dropping. “I’m kind-of a mess. But there isn’t really... another option.”

“Okay,” Damian said.

Thomas blinked, slowly looking back up at him. “O... kay?”

“Okay.” Damian shrugged. “You’re not awful to live with. And... if it means I can...” He cut himself off, a distasteful expression passing his face for a split second before smoothing over. “It’s fine.”

Thomas smiled up at him. “I know I was sleeping for a long time so I can’t really... say this... but I missed you, Dee.”

A soft smile that looked almost out-of-place tugged at the corners of Damian's lips. “I missed you too.”

Logan stepped forward with an awkward wince. “Er... not to break the moment...”

Damian glared at him and Logan flinched. Thomas kicked Damian and frowned while Damian shot an indignant look right back.

“Yeah,” Thomas cleared his throat. “Dee, I love you, but I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. And you know how much I need to work out. Sleeping does that to a person.”

Damian opened and closed his mouth, crossing his arms and scowling.

“Alright,” Thomas said, eyeing Damian’s body language. “You can do it now.”

Damian raised his hand, middle finger pointing to the sky just as Logan ripped him back into the pocket dimension.

Thomas sighed. “He’s always been a little shit.”

Virgil snickered.


	9. Chapter 9

“Okay, okay, fine,” Roman conceded, holding his hands up. “How about... these ones?” He held up two green leather gloves, swirls of silver embroidery inlaid.

“No,” Virgil said. He grinned at Roman’s exasperated expression.

“You can have literally any glove you want. Anything in the world. And you choose black? Just black?” Roman gestured to the gloves in fury. “They aren’t even nice black! They’re worn and faded!”

“They’re comfortable,” Virgil said defensively. “And you know I’m not into color.”

“But you could look so  _ fashionable _ ,” Roman bemoaned, resting the back of his hand against his forehead. “My fiance is a bland peasant, I can’t believe it.”

“Hey,” Virgil said, poking him with his foot. “Don’t talk to your future king like that.”

“I can talk to my future king however I desire,” Roman said, leaning forward and invading Virgil’s personal space. “Because  _ you _ said  _ yes–” _

“Shut your face,” Virgil groaned, shoving Roman away from him. “I said yes to Patton first.”

“I mean, fair,” Roman said, dramatically refusing to get up from his position on the floor. “I think I did too.”

“We all did,” Logan said, walking by. He paused mid-step, sharp eyes taking in the room. He sighed and entered. “Roman, are you trying to get him to wear something different again?”

“It’ll work this time, I swear!” Roman said, sitting upright with determination in his gaze.

Logan rolled his eyes and knelt by the pile of gloves sitting between Roman and Virgil to the side, delving into the dozens of fabrics up to his elbows. He searched around for a few seconds before pulling out a pair.

Logan turned and grabbed Roman’s chin, pulling their lips together and kissing him deeply. A happy noise jumped from Roman’s throat and he pressed into Logan, hand reaching up to curl into his hair.

Logan pulled away and smacked him in the face with the gloves he was holding. “Here.”

Roman sputtered as Logan turned, gave Virgil a peck on the lips, stood up, and walked out the door.

Virgil watched him go with a dopey smile on his face. He giggled at Roman’s flustered movements.

“What did he pick out?” Virgil asked him.

Roman grumbled and unraveled the gloves, instantly groaning. “Dammit all to hell, he got me.”

Virgil stared at the gloves with interest, reaching out and plucking them from Roman’s hands. “Oh, these are beautiful,” Virgil breathed, turning the soft leather over in his hands.

They were a soft black color, gentle accents of purple stitched across the backs. The hems had a distressed look.Virgil slipped them on, moving his fingers experimentally.

“So?” Roman prompted, leaning back on his hands. “How is it?”

“I do love them,” Virgil said, pulling them off carefully. “But I’ll wear them for when I’m out and about. When I’m just at home, and don’t need to worry as much...” He put his old gloves back on. “I’ll use these.”

Roman pretended to let out a huff of breath but smiled softly. “At least Patton has touched those.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, sighing lovingly and flexing his fingers to look at the tiny red embroidered heart on the thumb. “He said he wanted to work on a fancier pair but knew I would never wear it.”

“Speaking of, didn’t he say he had a surprise for us?” Roman said, head rolling to the right.

Virgil paused, a grin steadily growing on his face. “He did. He told us to meet him in the gardens.”

“That’s where Logan was going,” Roman said in realization. He jumped to his feet. “The little shit! He wanted to get there and see it first!” Roman grabbed Virgil and pulled him up, grasping his hands earnestly. “Come, dearheart, we must have haste!”

He pulled a giggling Virgil after him and they raced through the corridors.

Roman loved staying at Virgil’s summer home. At the central palace, so much was expected... but here, with minimal, handpicked servants and guards (as Virgil was still the heir) they could be themselves. Nobody cared if Virgil was carefree. Nobody cared if they ran in the hallways.

They burst into the garden, falling over each other and laughing as they slowed to a stop in front of Logan and Patton. Logan was talking animatedly while Patton gazed at him lovingly.

“Patton!” Roman cried out, falling into Patton’s arms.

Patton giggled, brushing Roman’s hair out of his eyes. “Hi Ro!”

“Patton, my beloved, I missed you dearly,” Roman declared, standing up so Patton wasn’t supporting his weight.

Patton laughed and leaned down, giving him a bunny kiss. “I missed you too, lovely!”

“You said you have a surprise for us?” Virgil asked, standing next to Logan and leaning into him.

“Yes!” Patton said, looping his arm through Roman’s. “Follow me!” He and Roman tried to run with each other’s arms linked, tripping over each other’s feet and laughing all the way.

Virgil leaned on Logan so heavily that Logan asked, “do you want me to carry you?”

“You’re too short,” Virgil mumbled, a smirk tugging at his lips. He whined when Logan pulled away.

“Ex _ cuse _ me, I can control space,” Logan said, offended.

Virgil snickered and shrugged doubtfully, giving Logan a challenging look.

“Alright,  _ darling _ ,” Logan said. In one fell swoop he leaned down and caught Virgil behind the knees, only using his power a bit to make sure he didn’t accidentally drop Virgil.

Virgil squeaked and flailed his arms, eventually throwing them around Logan’s neck.

Logan reveled in the dark blush settling on Virgil’s cheeks. “Still too short, huh?”

“You’re still short,” Virgil teased, lax voice contrasting his tensed body. “Just... really strong, too.”

“Although, I can’t really see where I’m going,” Logan commented. He tightened his grip. “The sight part is still iffy... I can only sort-of sense in front of me.”

Virgil pursed his lips. Logan could sometimes see without his eyes, simply sensing the space around objects and filled by objects. “I trust you.”

Logan eyed him dubiously. “That may be, but I do not trust myself.”

“We’re here!” Patton yelled out, Roman whooping in excitement beside him.

Logan carefully set Virgil down, murmuring something about needing to work out, and the two walked through the treeline hand in hand.

Patton and Roman were stripping to their underwear, and a crystalline pond shone in the dappled sunlight. A rock overhung, the perfect place for jumping.

Logan blinked and Virgil smiled widely.

“Swimming!” Roman called out, as if it wasn’t clear. “C’mon, guys! Let’s get  _ wet!” _

Virgil smacked his hand on his face while Patton laughed.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Eloquent.”

Patton and Roman piled their clothing on a rock far enough from shore and Logan and Virgil gradually followed suit. Logan caught sight of a pile of towels nearby.

“Who’s going in first?” Roman asked loudly.

“Oh, I will!” Patton carefully walked up the path to the overhang and stood on the edge. He waved at the other three happily before walking backwards off the rock.

“Patton is more brave than I will ever be,” Virgil murmured.

Patton’s head broke the surface and he laughed, shaking out his hair. Drops of sunlight scattered across the surface of the water. “Join me!”

“Who could ever resist that face?” Roman said, stalking to the end of the overhang. He stood there proudly. “While Patton is obviously the bravest of us four, I will be the next to leap the plank, our adversary of all time–”

Virgil sprinted past him and jumped, whooping loudly and landing in the pond with a large  _ splash _ . When he surfaced he pointed at Roman and said, “who’s the bravest of them all now, fucker?”

“His pet names for us are always so beautiful,” Roman told Logan, who’d walked up behind him.

“Oi!” Virgil yelled. “Logan is my dearest darling treasure and I won’t stand for you roping him into your schemes.”

Roman gaped at him and Logan snickered.

“Don’t worry love, I’m sure he’ll give me a vulgar nickname later,” Logan said.

“Get in the water!” Virgil called out. Patton seconded his yell and splashed the water for emphasis. They’d swam out of the way of the overhang, and now waited impatiently.

“C’mon Lo, wanna jump together?” Roman said, holding his hand out.

“Uh, I think I’ll pass,” Logan said, rubbing his arms. “It looks cold.”

“Aw, don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm,” Roman said, walking over to him and wrapping his arms around him snugly. He lit up with orange fire. “I’ll be your own personal heater!”

Logan’s face turned bright red and he hid it in Roman’s shoulder. Roman laughed and rubbed Logan’s arms up and down, pressing his cheek against his hair.

“Okay,” Logan eventually said, slipping out of Roman’s arms. “Go on, flame brain. Get your bravery points. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Flame brain?” Roman gasped. “Are you jumping on Virgil’s train of calling me names? How  _ dare?” _

“I’ve been calling you names the entire time I’ve known you,” Logan said, deadpan. “Don’t even try.”

“But baaabe–”

“Are you two coming in or not?” Virgil shouted.

“The water’s really nice!” Patton added.

“We’re coming!” Roman crouched down and picked Logan up. Logan yelped and tried to scramble out of Roman’s arms, but he held tight.

“Let me down!” Logan said, pushing at his shoulders.

“In we go!” Roman whooped and barreled off the edge of the rock, slamming into the water with Logan in his arms.

They surfaced and Roman shook his hair out like a dog.

“Wasn’t that fun?” Roman said, grinning cheekily at Logan. Logan scowled and spat water at his face.

“Ew!” Roman ducked under the surface and shoved water in Logan’s general direction, starting an all-out water war.

Patton ended up victorious when Logan spelled Virgil in place and Roman started wrestling with Logan, arms lit in pale blue fire.

“I win!” Patton called out, splashing the water. Roman shoved Logan’s head under the water and Logan spluttered, arms flailing as he fought to gain the upper hand.

“C’mon Ro, let go,” Patton implored, swimming over and latching onto his back, arms thrown over his shoulder. The pale blue fire instantly sputtered out and Roman lifted his hands to hang onto Patton’s forearms and swimming over to an area shallow enough to stand.

Logan heaved for air and flicked his hand, undoing the spell locking Virgil in place. Virgil instantly swam over to shallow water, Logan not too far behind.

They stood in silence, catching their breath.

Patton grinned. “Wanna see who can hold their breath the longest?”

Virgil grinned back at him, eyes alight. “Bet Roman loses.”

“I will not!” Roman protested. “My lungs have a larger capacity than all of you!”

“We’ll see about that,” Logan said, a competitive spark glinting in his eyes.

After the breath holding contest (Roman did lose, Virgil somehow won) they tested to see who could hold a handstand the longest (Patton was the winner there. Logan didn’t know how to do a handstand and Virgil ended up spending his time teaching him). Then there was a chicken fight with all sorts of combinations. Logan and Roman ended up being the champion of champions in that case.

Hours passed, and, before they knew it, they were all huddled on shore, wrapped in towels and pressed together for warmth.

Virgil let Roman stick his hands in his hair, drying the strands with warm orange flames. He sighed, flicking his hair out of his face and tightening his towel around his shoulders.

Virgil stared at the water as Roman moved on to Patton. The sun was setting, sending streaks of orange and red cut in pieces by the trees to shine on the water.

It had been a year since Damian.

They got monthly letters from Thomas, who was constantly amazed at how different his friends were, and yet how they were all still the same old people he’d known and loved.

After Logan had spelled the island to trap Damian there indefinitely, Patton, Roman, and Virgil had all appealed to him, trying to convince him to move in with them. He refused, moving back home, but showed up at the palace gates a week later. Their excitement and joy upon seeing Logan was… overwhelming. It was the first time they’d ever seen Logan truly  _ beam _ . 

Virgil had told Roman he was to be trained to become the head knight, eventually. He’d have to go through all of the ranks, but he’d receive special training from the current head knight, his end career set. The first time Virgil told him so, Roman cried for hours, and wouldn’t let go of Virgil the entire time. Virgil hadn’t minded much.

Virgil told Logan to explore the library and familiarize himself with the expansive room, because eventually it would be his. Then it was Logan’s turn to be emotional, and while he didn’t physically cling to Virgil, Virgil could tell Logan wanted to be around him, so they stayed in their room for the rest of the night.

Virgil asked Patton what he wanted most in the world. After a few minutes of, “other than staying with us for the rest of your life... what would you want?” Patton finally said he wanted some fabric and threat to embroider. He enjoyed the hobby immensely and didn’t want to earn any money for it. Giving his work as gifts was one of his favorite parts of embroidering, and Virgil instantly sent for the highest quality threat and the most beautiful fabrics, though Patton liked to stick with run of the mill fabric. He liked the thread, though.

Six months in to being back at the palace, his father, King Emile, told him he needed to be married to secure the kingdom. His father disliked forcing Virgil into situations, but other kingdoms were pressuring them to take action, and tensions were starting to run high.

Virgil, broken, explained the situation to the other three, at which Patton had said, ever-so-quietly, “will you marry me? All of you?”

Virgil sighed, feeling tiredness creep behind his eyelids. Damian was gone, he was engaged to his favorite people in all the lands, and he finally had  _ control _ in his life.

He nuzzled Patton’s shoulder, curling into his side. Roman was pressed against Virgil’s back with an armful of Logan in his lap, murmuring quiet nothings into his ear.

Virgil smiled against Patton’s shoulder. Right now ... filled with love for his fiances, surrounded by warmth after swimming all afternoon, the dying sunlight sprinkled around them...

He wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.


End file.
